


Best Laid Plans

by Arsoemon



Series: ShuKita 100 [17]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bonding, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Smut, FFS just kiss already, Feels, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Oblivious(?) teasing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Self-Harm, Shukita - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, softish Akechi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 37,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsoemon/pseuds/Arsoemon
Summary: The year Akira first came to Tokyo was a wild one, to put it lightly, and the few years since haven’t been boring, either. *vanilla spoilers*
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira, Kitagawa Yusuke/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: ShuKita 100 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485896
Comments: 51
Kudos: 77





	1. Akira: A long Evening

Akira was walking to the corner store, having just made it back to his apartment after visiting Boss and Futaba. Though it's only about an hour away, on the absolute worst traffic days, coming home to Yongen is always bittersweet. He loves the family he found there and the memories they'd made. And he loves knowing that everyone is still close enough to just drop by and visit with at any given moment. Well, almost everyone, anyway. He sighs as he crosses the street.

He's recalling what he needs to do this week when the sound of a confrontation cuts through his thoughts, and he's overwhelmed with a feeling of deja vu. He follows the sound until he's standing in an alleyway watching two guys beat up another, the poor third man cowering on the ground, just hoping to survive the attack. "I don't know what he did, but I think lessons are better learned by those who live to think about them."

The men stop and look at this random bystander. "And who the fuck are you?"

"A bystander," he says simply, hands still in his pockets.

One of them approaches him menacingly. "Hey friend, it would do you good to keep walking and pretend this didn't happen," the threat obvious in his tone.

"I'm sure. But now I'm invested in the poor bastard. So please just leave him alone."

"What if we don't?"

Akira gives an exasperated sigh as he takes off his jacket.

"You're kidding," the second man laughs. "Yo, Yamada, can you believe this guy?"

"Don't say my name you idiot!"

"Shit..."

"Now we have to kill em both, you asshole!"

With a yell, the second man charges Akira who brings his right fist straight out in front of him just in time to use the attacking man's momentum against him. Everyone can hear the crack, but Akira can feel it. His hand is already beginning to swell, but the attacker is lying on the ground trying to even his breathing under his now fractured sternum. Akira turns to the remaining man who panics and tries to run off. With just an outstretched leg, he takes the man's legs off from under him which in turn results in his face colliding with the wall. 

Both men down, Akira turns to the bloody figure slumped against the opposite wall. He lifts the man's head which seems to spur him back to life a bit. The man cowers weakly behind his hands. "Please, don't hurt me. I-I have no money." Though broken, the voice still sends Akira reeling. Back to five years ago when he was arrested the second time, after Niijima-San had left. Back to the engine room after the wall had gone up.

"Akechi...?" Akira's blood runs cold. The man looks at him then, and he almost falls backward from the shock hitting him so hard.

"Kurusu-San?" The shock is evident in his eyes as well.

Akira, sitting a foot away from one of his more salient triggers, is frozen in place. There's a flash of what seems like a smile then a deep sadness as Akechi falls unconscious. "Damn it," Akira pulls himself together and lifts the crumpled mass as carefully as he can and heads back home to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the general idea of this one planned out, but there’s still a ton of edits to be made. If/when any tags or ratings need to be changed, I will try to make good notes so you always have a general idea of what you’re getting into. I can say right now that this one will explore more serious themes, so I will do my best to tag accurately. Thanks for reading!


	2. Akira: Choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to say in chapter 1 that this takes place in the same AU as Home, but there’s no need to read it if you haven’t/don’t wanna. Any relevant info will be in these chapters. Meeting adjourned.

He's holding the ice pack against his swollen knuckles when a lady walks up to him. "Mr. Kurusu? This way, please." He follows her to the room Akechi's being kept in and stands at the foot of the bed as she leaves them alone. His injuries don't seem to have been as bad as they looked in the alley. He looks much cleaner, too.

"I- uh... thank you for saving me."

"Just settling a debt." He looks down at his feet. "You going to be alright?"

"Well... I... yes. I'll be fine." Akechi musters a small smile.

"Any family or friends you can call? I can wait until they get here."

"My fiancée. Well, she's out of town, though."

"Hm. Well they're planning to let you go today. Do you need help getting somew-"

"That's enough. Save your pity. I didn't need it then, and I don't need it now." Akechi steels his voice, though it doesn't hold the same weight it used to. Akira looks up then.

"Hey. Get this through your head: I don't pity you, never have. So your life's been rough; welcome to the club. You made yourself an obstacle for me, and still I acknowledged your capabilities and the fact that there was more to you than all the little comments and arrogance and people pleasing. I could've killed you many, _many_ times. The coffee.... on the ship.... anywhere you stood with my bare fucking hands because while YOU saw me as your greatest threat, I never felt strongly one way or the other about you. Aside from endangering my team, you were inconsequential. We could've been friends, but your own self pity got in the way of that. Still, I _chose_ to listen and be kind each time you loitered around my home, I _chose_ to play into your misguided plan, and four hours and twenty seven minutes ago I _chose_ to be a decent fucking human being and not leave you to die alone in a back alley. Don't think for a second I feel any sort of guilt about seeing you this way. This is no obligation, and I'm not begging to help you. Do you need help getting somewhere?"

The other boy is stunned into silence. It sounds like laughter at first, but the tears tell a different story. "No. There's nowhere for me to go." He drops his head into his hands.

"Then I'll be in the waiting room when you're dressed," Akira leaves without a second glance.


	3. Akira: You Don’t Want This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal ideation

Akira drops his keys on the coffee table. "There's a spare room," he walks down the hallway and flips on the light switch. "We'll have to share the bathroom. Gonna add another one eventually, but here it is. My room's the one at the end. You can get a bath while I wash your clothes." Akechi looks alarmed. "Look, I got some stuff that'll probably fit, but you can't have my underwear, so this is how it is. Leave em outside the door." He walks to his room. Once he changes his own clothes, he gathers up Akechi's and starts laundry.

After some time, Akechi sheepishly steps out in a robe to the sound of cooking. "I-I hope this is okay."

Akira glances up, a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. "Yeah. Clothes should be dry in like 15 minutes," he returns to the skillet. "Hope you like scrambled. He doesn't but smiles politely.

  
•  
  


Two weeks go by with the two gradually getting used to each other, Akira with his drinking, smoking, and daily doses of meds; Akechi with his cycles of irritability and self-loathing. Any conversation was trivial, the most substantial discussions being what's for dinner and why the other is so irritating. Their mutually dismissive attitudes toward one another seemed fine on the surface, but they were merely bandages that would soon be ripped off the still-bleeding wounds they concealed.

Akira wakes up to hot, crushing pain as he has for nearly a year now and, with a groan, reaches for the nightstand. He sits up slowly when he realizes the pill bottle isn't there. He drags himself out of bed, with great difficulty since his entire left side is rendered useless by the pain. Akechi can hear Akira lumbering slowly down the hallway, every other step heavier, clumsier than usual.

Akira checks the medicine cabinet behind the mirror in the bathroom. Nothing. He heads to the kitchen, hoping he somehow forgot them in there and growing exponentially more aggravated with each stabbing step. Officially out of places where he could've left them, he turns back down the hallway and pounds on the door. "Akechi, have you seen my painkillers?"

He stands still, hoping Akira didn't hear the rattle of the pills in the bottle. That hope is soon dashed when the door comes swinging in, a very disgruntled looking Akira in its frame. He can only stand there as he watches Akira's eyes take in his shirtless frame and panicked expression and the handful of capsules in his hand. His expression hardens even further as he grabs Akechi by the arm, jolting him enough to send the pills scattering around the room. He throws him to the floor and punches him.

"For shooting me in the head," He punches him again. "For blackmailing my friends." A third punch. "For making me think you killed yourself!" What Akechi expects to be yet another blow ends up being a hug. "For trying to do it for real... you asshole..." his voice sounds tired and is filled with immense sadness. "You stupid fucking asshole...." His already trembling shoulders begin to heave as he holds on to his formal rival. After all of this settles in, Akechi hugs him back and begins to sob.

They sit there on the floor like this for who cares how long. Some time after Akechi's sobs had been reduced to occasional sniffling, Akira's arm begins to twitch, and with far greater effort than would normally be called for, he scrounges up two of the capsules from the floor and swallows them dry as he collapses onto his side. Akechi only watches for a while before speaking up. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize you needed them that badly." Akira continues to lie there, eyes closed. "Well, I guess the truth would be that I didn't care." He looks down. "What happened anyway?"

With a groan, Akira slowly begins pushing himself into a sitting position. "Chronic pain." Akechi considers this for a moment and wonders why he's so cryptic, but before he can push the issue, the other man poses a question of his own. "Why did you do it?"

"Because... I don't deserve to be here. All the people I've... hurt." His voice thickens with tears. "I'm sorry," he wipes his eyes. "I messed everything up."

"You feel guilty."

"It's so heavy I feel like my heart will stop, and it should."

"Stop. That kind of thinking leads to nothing good." He rolls his shoulder slowly. "Maybe try apologizing."

"Where do I even begin?"

"Help me hunt down these last ten days' worth of pills." They slowly start collecting capsules. "And then just pick someone. I don't know about anyone beyond my Thieves who would really understand your involvement in all that. You'll have to decide for yourself what you want to do with those cases, but I can help you get started."

"What if I fail? There's no good reason for them to forgive me."

"They're more reasonable than you'd think," he caps the bottle. "Either way, you can know that you tried."

"But won't giving something your best and it not being enough hurt worse?"

Akira rattles the pills. "This is the alternative you almost chose. You don't want this. Trust me."

Akechi nods gravely. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."


	4. Akira: That Help at All?

"I'm going to meet the therapist at 2:00 tomorrow."

"That's good," Akira puts his shoes on.

"I promise I'll pay you back just as soon as I find work."

"I told you there's a spot open at the club."

"I'm not cut out for that sort of thing. That's for someone with charisma, good looks, always knows what to say to people."

"Your modesty is sickening."

"Maybe back then I could've, but for better or worse, I'm not that person anymore. I... I don't know why I'm crying I'm sorry." Akira pats him on the back.

"You don't need to be that person. You have it in you to do whatever you wanna do. But you're still rebuilding right now, so a step at a time, right?"

"Yeah," he wipes his face. "Yeah I suppose you're right. Ah... I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's do it."

They begin the drive to Akira's job, Akechi nervously riding passenger. "So what is this place we're going to?" One day, Futaba suddenly got the idea to open a dance club. Akira had recalled them having a conversation about it before but couldn't remember when until she proclaimed that she would call it Club Velvet. And after presenting a plan to Boss, taking some freelance programming jobs, and saving for a couple years, she made it happen.

"Simplest comparison: host club with more dancing. You'll get a sense of it." But Akechi is barely listening from all the nerves. Shortly after their discussion about Akechi's guilty conscience last week, Akira had gone to the group chat to ask when everyone was free to meet up. Today was the day, and Akechi is feeling lightheaded. A thought occurs to him as he notices Akira's drumming fingers on the steering wheel.

"Should you be driving?"

"Sure. Just enough drugs in my system," Akira gives an impish smirk.

Akechi shakes his head. "We should've taken the train."

Akira's face hardens. "Take it home, if you want." Akechi's curiosity almost overrides the nerves, but one look at Akira's tense expression and posture keeps him quiet.

It's almost 4:00 when they arrive which gives them three full hours before opening to have this meeting. Akira parks around back, and they see Futaba unlocking the door as they make it around the building. She pauses at the sight of them, sliding her headphones down around her neck. She looks between the two of them for a moment and pushes the door open. "Hey," she settles on before walking in. They follow.

Akira sets his stuff behind the bar and joins Futaba in taking down the chairs. Akechi stands awkwardly at one end of the large room. "What're you waiting for? Grab a chair." Futaba keeps moving as he startles into motion. Soon enough, all tables are ready to be set, and Akira goes to the back to grab the candles. Akechi stands around again before Futaba gestures to a barstool. "Don't be so awkward."

He approaches slowly and stands stiffly, timidly holding her gaze. "Sakura-San," he bows deeply, "I beg for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it, but I need to at least let you know how truly sorry I am for all the trouble I caused." After a long pause, he dares to peak up at her.

"That was pretty good. But you should throw in some tears and a dramatic vow for a chance at the others buying it." He's opening his mouth to plead his case when she holds up a hand. "Save it. I'm only kidding." She pats the seat. "Sit. I'm gonna check the lights and stuff," she tells Akira when he starts inspecting silverware and glasses.

"That help at all?" Akechi snivels as he nods and covers his face. Akira gives him a towel and gets back to inspecting. At 4:00 on the dot, Makoto and Haru arrive, having carpooled from university. Their conversation ends as their gazes find Akechi.

"Hello," Haru nods with curt politeness as the two pick seats at a table. Akechi tenses in his seat and drops his head. The wait for the others feels eternal and is just barely alleviated when Futaba returns and strikes up a conversation with the girls. But about 10 minutes later, he can hear voices approaching the door.

"Sorry we're late!" Ann sounds as sunny as always. "The shoot ran over."

"Same here. Took way longer than I expected to get someone to cover my shift." Ryuji scratches his neck. His expression changes as his eyes find Akechi. "So it's true." Akira walks over and hands him a soda, a bottle of fancy water for Ann, and gestures to the table Futaba, Haru, and Makoto are at. They all sit and stare quietly, waiting to hear what Akechi has to say for himself.

Akira leans against the back counter of the bar, hands in pockets, and nods to Akechi. "Go on."

He takes a mental count. "I-is this everyone? Where is-"

"Go on," Akira repeats a bit more sharply than Akechi would've expected.

He swallows the impossible lump in his throat as he stands. "I-" he clears his throat before prostrating himself on the floor. "I wanted to beg for your forgiveness. I was a foolish, misguided, angry child given too much power and not enough wisdom to wield it. I made terrible, irreversible decisions, and I know mere words can never atone for that. I completely understand if you can't forgive me. I just hope to convey my sincerity." Tears run freely down his cheeks as he lifts his head to look Haru in the eye.

She holds his gaze unflinchingly as she rises from her seat and strides steadily toward him, each click of her kitten heels urging his pulse higher and higher. "Rise," she towers above him, and he does what he is told. With little warning, she slaps him; and with the same hand, she pulls out a handkerchief and dabs away his tears. "You forgot selfish and short-sighted. But in the end, we were all puppets of a cruel fate." She guides him back to his seat at the bar. "Though I do still wonder about what could've been had you not killed my father, I accept my life for what it is and value each moment all the more." She looks to all the others with a serene expression that seems to act as their cue to chime in.

"And we can't overlook the fact that you did actually risk your life for ours," Makoto concedes.

"I honestly just assumed that was your apology back then, but it's always nice to hear it clearly," Ann gets up to hand the now empty fancy glass bottle back to Akira.

This sounds like forgiveness? Or at the very least the road to it, and the thought brings new tears of relief and gratitude. He even laughs a bit at Futaba's warning to not snot all over her bar. They spend the next two hours catching up, though based on the conversation, Akechi can tell they all do this sort of thing often. As the nerves dissipate bit by bit, it occurs to Akechi that Sakamoto-San has been decidedly quiet. Everyone starts getting ready to leave as Futaba runs down her opening checklist and Akira goes to get changed.

Ryuji steps behind the bar to throw his empty bottle away. "Recycle!" comes Futaba's voice from the stage.

"Yeah yeah," he waves her off as he pulls the bottle from the trash bin to put it in the plastic one.

"Sakamoto-San," Akechi speaks up. "I hope we can get along from now on."

Ryuji eyes him. "Look, I don't really give a shit what you say or do. But hurt him, and I won't hold back." He glares him down until he nods his understanding. With one last scowl, he turns to leave.


	5. Akira: As Good a Time as Any

Akechi comes home after a day of job hunting. “I’m back!” he announces as he locks up and hangs up his coat. Something feels odd. Akira’s car is out front which means there’s a good chance he’s home since he seems to have some aversion to the subway now. But if that’s the case, dinner would already be cooking, if not ready by now; it’s his turn to cook today. He’s making his way to the kitchen to see if he’d left a note but stops short.

"Akira!" He runs to the form on the floor. "Akira, can you hear me?" His eyes open, but he seems to be avoiding any other movement. "Hey! Can you hear me?" He gives a barely perceptible nod. Akechi runs to find Akira's phone, an easy task since it's on the coffee table. He chooses the first name he recognizes from the recent calls. "Sakamoto-San? There is something wrong with Akira. Will you please help?"

He’s there within ten minutes. "What did you do to him?!" Ryuji grabs him by the collar.

"Nothing! I swear it! I don't know what to do," Akechi hurries to explain. "If you want to kill me later, I'll cooperate, but please see to him first." Ryuji reluctantly lets him go before shoving past him.

He takes in the scene before sighing in half relief. "How long has he been like this?"

"I had just gotten back when I called, and he was fine when I left a few hours ago. I don't know when it happened between then."

Ryuji makes a call before he takes a seat next to Akira. "Hey, man. We'll have you up in a bit, okay?" He starts into the relatively uneventful tale of how his day went, and Akechi watches as Akira listens attentively. There's a knock at the door that Ryuji gestures for Akechi to stay seated for. "Sorry again for calling you out so late."

"It's only 8:30," a familiar gruff voice dismisses. "Where is he?" Sojiro removes his hat as he steps inside. He locks eyes with Akechi and nods after a moment.

Ryuji crouches down by Akira again. "You ready?" Akira groans and shuts his eyes. "Yeah I know. I hate this part, too. Ryuji gently takes Akira's right arm while Sojiro takes the left with even more care. Still, Akira cries out in pain and almost instantly breaks into a sweat, on the verge of a full on panic attack before they can get him two inches off the ground.

"Don't! J-just leave me!" He squeezes his eyes shut as his arm begins to twitch violently. "Just leave me."

"Kid, we know it hurts, but it will only get worse the longer you stay down there." His breathing evens out the slightest bit as he tries to control himself. They try lifting him again, and it's even worse.

"Please just... just..." he gasps out between rapid breaths. His left arm trembles violently enough to slam against the floor with an unsettling cracking sound, and he passes out. The two men take the opportunity to move him as quickly as they can.

After tucking Akira in, Sojiro shuts the door behind him as he joins the boys in the front room. He stands and watches them, Akechi looking as if he could faint at any moment and Ryuji glaring holes into him.

"Alright look, I know you boys have some things to work past. Hell, I'm still not okay with what went down back then. But Akira's a smart man, good judge of character. He sees fit to trust you, and I'm sure he has his reasons. That said, I'm sure it goes without saying that if you dare betray him again, there will be hell to pay and a small army of folks looking to ensure that happens, understand?"

Akechi nods rapidly before bowing his head. "Yes, sir. I really cannot apologize enough for what I did, who I was back then. Still, I'm working to be better, someone actually worthy of Kurusu-San's and all of your trust. I hope someday you can forgive me." Sojiro eyes the boy and can sense he's being genuine. Ryuji still looks unconvinced, but his glare has relaxed some.

"Right. So what all do you know about his condition?" Sojiro continues.

"Very little. He has an unexplained, mostly concealed limp and fits of spasms that seem to arise during moments of stress, he requires painkillers to function, and he has an alarmingly high alcohol tolerance."

Sojiro gives a grim hum as he rubs his chin. "Well, I’m sure he’ll give you the full story when he’s ready. Just watch out for anything strange. I'll let Futaba know to come by first thing,” he grabs his hat and heads out the door.

Ryuji isn’t too far behind. He turns to face Akechi when he reaches the door. “You helped us get to him in time. Thanks,” Ryuji says without looking him in the eye. Akechi simply nods, not wanting to backtrack into threat territory, and the other man leaves.

•

The next morning, there’s a knock at the door. Akechi opens it to find Futaba dancing away the cold, a messenger bag on each shoulder. He invites her in, only a bit awkwardly, and she foregoes the pleasantries as she removes her shoes and goes straight back to Akira’s room.

“I don’t know if he’s awake yet,” Akechi makes a halfhearted attempt at stopping her as he follows and lingers just outside the door.

“Even better.” She pushes the door open. “Lazy bones!” Akira groans and covers his face. Her tone grows serious. “On or off the scale?”

“Seven,” he slowly shifts around the bedding so he can lie flat as she drops one bag by the door and begins unpacking the second. She seems to be massaging his shoulder at first, but as her hands continue to move, Akechi’s jaw drops, his breath catches in his throat.

Futaba pulls away a long glove that looks a bit too much like Akira’s skin. “W-what...?” Akechi gasps in horror and expects Akira to start screaming in agony, but his eyes remain closed, almost peacefully.

“Nosy Crow,” Futaba pulls a case from the bag on the bed.

Akira continues to lie there with his eyes closed. “I would’ve told you eventually. Guess now’s as good a time as any....”

“Make yourself useful while you listen,” Futaba motions him over to the bedside.


	6. Akira: What Do You Want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback: ~17 years old

It started out as a normal day and seemed to be ending that way, as well. Akira was just getting back from one of his many jobs. He greeted Sojiro on his way in.

“How many piercings is that now?” Sojiro eyed the boy’s ear. “What if a job you want won’t take you for those?”

“Then I still have at least five that I know will. Besides,” he ruffled the hair near his ear.

“And if they ask you to cut it?”

“I don’t think I wanna work for anyone who asks me to cut my ear, Boss.”

Sojiro huffed a laugh. “Alright, smartass. Takethe trash.” Akira dropped his stuff and walked the bags out to the dumpster. When he returned, Sojiro was sorting through mail. He held out an envelope to Akira as he continued scanning through the remaining stack.

Akira took the envelope without looking at the return address. As he read, his breath caught in his throat, his blood ran cold, he felt faint. Sojiro gave him a questioning look, and he handed the letter to him with shaking hands. “M-my... it’s from... it’s... him.” Him. Akira’s biological father. He hadn’t spoken to the man since before he first came to Tokyo. And now he was asking him to come back.

Sojiro's frown deepened imperceptibly as he handed the letter back. "What do you want to do?"

Akira stared at the paper. "I... This... h-he sounds sincere, b-but... what if it's a trap? I know people can change. People have changed, but we don't know if that’s what this is. Can't afford to be naive just because my dad may finally l-love-“ he covered his mouth as his voice broke.

Sojiro rested a hand on Akira’s shoulder as he tried to control his breathing. "How about we invite him here, you get reacquainted somewhere you're comfortable and decide if you believe him."

With a shaky sigh, Akira nodded, grateful for his adoptive father’s support.

•

The day came when Mr. Kurusu was expected at Leblanc. He was supposed to be here almost an hour ago, and Sojiro could clearly see how the whole ordeal was bothering Akira. He hadn’t said anything besides good morning and had been sitting still in this exact same spot for three hours already, his face devoid of color and lined with tension. He hadn’t even touched his coffee. The man was now 50 minutes late, and Akira had slowly started to relax the slightest bit, likely hoping he just wouldn’t show up at all. Sojiro was starting to feel angry. He could’ve just stayed quietly in the boy’s past if he was just going to toy with him like this. But the thought was fleeting. The bell on the door announced their guest.

An unassuming, quiet man stepped in and removed his hat as he looked around. “Hello, Sakura-San. Thank you for the gracious invitation,” he nodded to the man who simply stared over his glasses. His eyes came to rest on the young man sitting in the booth furthest from the door. It had only been just under two years, but he barely recognized him. “Hello again, my son.” Akira flinched and turned his head ever so slightly away from the man.

Things got off to an agonizingly slow start. The man attempted casual small talk, and Akira attempted to participate. Sojiro could tell from how slow the boy was to respond to even the most trivial thing that he was picking just the right words, trying to answer in a way that wouldn’t send the man into a rage, and in his mind, that further justified his decision to stay and supervise the meeting.But the man continued to prattle on in an almost jovial manner as if the prior 17 years were particularly good for the boy. He finished his second cup of coffee and checked his watch, mentioning something or other he needed to attend to. After setting plans for when they might do this again, he left.

Akira let out a deep breath that seemed to be the only thing keeping him up. He rested his head on the back of the booth, his arms lying limp next to him in the seat. Sojiro brought a light snack to the table. “You did great, kid. Eat something then go get some rest.” Akira simply nodded.


	7. Akira: Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback continued

The next time Mr. Kurusu came to visit was just as awkward as the first, though Akira seemed more prepared. Sojiro let himself believe his own presence was a help, and if anyone asked, Akira probably wouldn’t disagree. His stomach was tied in fewer knots this time, but was knotted nonetheless, and he was relieved when the man was gone without incident again.

Each subsequent visit saw more and more progress. Eventually, he became a regular, and by then, Akira was comfortable enough to actually drink his coffee and even laugh every now and then. It was timid, restrained laughter, and he still included Sojiro in the conversation almost desperately, but progress is progress, and Sojiro was cautiously optimistic about it all.

One particular visit, Sojiro called Akira to the side during a lull in the conversation. As much as he hated to do it, a freak morning rush had them running low on a few ingredients. “I need to make a grocery run,” he watched for the boy’s reaction and wasn’t sure if he was seeing Akira’s distress over the idea of being left alone with his once tormentor or if he was simply projecting. Whatever the case, he quickly continued, “But I can go later, if that would be better.”

Akira swallowed as he seemed to consider this. “I-I think that’ll be o-okay,” he nodded as he twisted one of his curls.

He seemed so much like the scared kid he was the first time they’d met that someone may as well have punched Sojiro in the gut. “I’ll go later,” he decided.

“It’s okay,” Akira sounded more sure this time. “What’s the worst...” Akira’s gaze drifted to the space behind Sojiro as at least seventeen potential answers to that question flashed through his mind. “I’ll be okay,” he shook the thoughts away, his expression less distraught than before.

Sojiro wanted so badly to kick the man out and never put his boy through this kind of stress again, but he knew how unrealistic that was. The man seemed genuine about wanting to make things right, and Akira was trying his hardest as well; who was he—outside the eyes of the law—to keep them apart? With a deep breath and more speed than he himself expected to be capable of, he promised to be back within 15 minutes and made his way to the door.

He was practically running back to the cafe about 12 minutes later, palms sweaty and in dire need of a cigarette from his own paranoia. He stood outside the door and pretended to be shifting bags around as he attempted to regain his composure. Can’t effectively convince Akira everything’s fine if he himself was freaking the fuck out. He opened the door to the two standing, and his heart almost leapt from his chest until he fully processed the scene. They were both standing, but all appeared to be well. The man was putting on his jacket, and Akira wore a small smile. Sojiro and the man exchanged polite farewells as he passed him on the way out. Akira rushed to help with the groceries and share what they’d discussed in those 12 minutes.

“They own a small apartment complex, my... uh...” Akira nodded toward the door, and it took Sojiro only a second to realize he still couldn’t bring himself to call the man his dad. Some small, selfish part of him felt smug—neither Akira nor Futaba called him “Dad” often, but it never seemed forced when they did. All the rest of him, though, took into account the tragedy of the situation, and he mostly just felt sad. “And he wants to show me how to do renovations and things like that,” Akira finished, an almost bashful excitement in his voice. He was looking for validation, encouragement, something positive, Sojiro knew from the way the boy fidgeted.

“That sounds exciting,” he offered truthfully. “You interested?” he glanced over his shoulder on the way to the fridge.

Akira nodded slowly. “I think so,” he seemed to be fighting a smile, and as much as Sojiro wished the boy could just know pure, unconditional happiness for once, he understood his hesitation.

“Good,” he offered his own small smile. “I’m glad you two will have that.”


	8. Akira: On a High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still flashing back

He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. He’d come home each day like a young child, bursting with excitement in his own quiet way, dying to tell Sojiro about all the cool stuff he was learning. Sojiro didn’t even try to fight the warm fuzzies tugging at his heart and making him smile as he listened intently. And it didn’t hurt that no matter how tired the kid was when he got back, no matter where Mr. Kurusu had treated him to lunch, he was still excited to come home and talk about every little thing that had happened that day while he ate the food Sojiro had made—sometimes just for him. Eventually, Ryuji started going with him to help out, and the excitement at dinner doubled. It was nice to see his kids as happy as they may have ever been, and Sojiro was over the moon. Things were nearly perfect for a few months.

One day in particular, Akira, Ryuji, and a couple of the others were installing the flooring in one of the three-bedroom units, and they had settled into a good rhythm. All four of them were startled when they heard a loud yell from outside. They froze for a moment to see if any kind of explanation would follow but instead were met with the red, furious face of Mr. Kurusu stomping into the room.

Without thinking, Akira was on his feet and pulling Ryuji with him away from the man. Their backs hit the far wall, and Ryuji could feel Akira’s grip on his arm tighten. When he looked at Akira to see what was wrong, a cold familiarity washed over him like someone was siphoning the warmth from his body through his scalp. He was no stranger to irrationally angry men, and the look on Akira’s face reminded him he wasn’t the only one. And yet even in such a clear state of panic, Akira was standing a few paces in front of Ryuji, ever the protector. Ryuji grabbed on to his shirt and pulled him back, hoping to lend his best friend some strength and show that he was right there with him.

The man’s head snapped to the boys across the room, and they flinched, their fight or flight instincts in high gear. They watched the man go from grimacing and panting to taking deliberate deep breaths, slowly calming himself down. Neither really knew what to think. Mr. Kurusu turned to properly address all four of them in the room.

“I’m sorry for such a shameful display of anger. Please, forgive my outburst.” He looked directly at Akira then. The boy didn’t say anything and still seemed hesitant to move. “Why don’t we go for lunch? I imagine we all could use a break.”

•

They took the train to Shibuya for Big Bang Burger. Akira was grateful for the distance he and Ryuji were able to stand away from his father. He’d gotten too comfortable with the man’s calm, pleasant side, a side that wasn’t unfamiliar before but certainly not as long lasting and predictable. Ryuji obviously could tell he wasn’t alright and had opted to just stand in silence. Akira wasn’t sure if that made the whole thing better or worse.

The short walk out of the station and the wait in line gave him some time to calm down, if only a bit. Ryuji and some of the other men cracked jokes behind him that further brought him back from that headspace, and by the time they were seated with their food, the urge to run wasn’t nearly as strong as it was before. He could even converse normally with everyone again, though he did keep stealing glances in the man’s direction, a nervous habit from when he was younger.

The others were deep in a conversation about the best way to serve noodles when the man looked at Akira and laid his burger back onto the tray. “I want to apologize again for earlier.” Akira peeked at him through his bangs, not quite meeting his eye. “I... Your mother and I are getting a divorce.” When the boy didn’t react, he continued, “I was hoping to avoid such an unfavorable turn of events, but it seems she has made her decision.” Akira pushed his tray away and stared at the table, no idea how to respond. The man looks to the others. “Why don’t you all go home from here? I’ll make sure everything’s put away.”

•

“He actually calmed himself down without...” Akira looked down, unwilling to say it outright and unable to think of another way to say it. Sojiro gave an impressed hum. “He even apologized, and then it was like nothing happened.” He finished off the last of his cake. “He suggested we go somewhere fun on the next off day.”

“What like the paint store?” Futaba asked in a bored tone. Akira stole her drink.

“Like Destinyland,” he held the mug up, just out of her reach.

“Destinyland?!” She stopped jumping to give him a shocked look.

“Well that’s exciting,” Sojiro dropped another plate into the sink.

“Yeah, I guess,” Akira finished the drink and just barely managed to hold on to the mug as Futaba threw herself to the floor and started punching his shins.

Sojiro gave a sarcastic smirk over his shoulder. “What, you too old to have fun or something?”

“No, just...” he trailed off, not exactly wanting to revisit what happened the last time he’d been to Destinyland.

“I guess your folks splitting is a bit depressing,” Sojiro held his hand out for the cup. Akira gladly accepted his assumption as a substitute for the truth. “Know when you’re going?”

“Saturday,” Akira rubbed his neck. The boy’s nervousness still concerned Sojiro quite a bit.

“Hey,” Sojiro looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Akira nodded, grateful to have Sojiro in his corner.


	9. Akira: The Lowest Low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will remind you about the tags for this particular chapter. I wouldn’t call it graphic, but there’s the mention of suicide. This is a big chapter, but if you don’t feel up to it, it’s alright to skip to the end notes.

Akira rolls his shoulder, flexes his fingers, bends and unbends his elbow to make sure everything is as it should be. “Thanks,” he tells Futaba as he pulls a shirt on. “Pay you in breakfast?”

“Only if it’s good.” She casually packs her tools away.

“Wait. That doesn’t explain anything,” Akechi calls as Akira limps to the kitchen. He turns to Futaba when he doesn’t get an answer.

She’s looking at him with an alarmingly serious expression. Her eyes are haunted, distant as if she’s already reliving whatever could’ve caused... this. 

“It’s not really something anyone would want to talk about,” she looks down, her voice low. Gesturing for Akechi to sit, she starts into the rest of the tale. “So that Saturday when he was supposed to go to Destinyland with him came....”

•

“Hey, shouldn’t he be home by now?” Morgana stopped grooming himself to look up at the tv screen. The news was on.

“A train accident, eh? Deja vu...” Sojiro shook his head and reached for his lighter. For some reason, all eyes snapped to the screen when the words “double suicide” hit their ears.

_Police are still working to identify the bodies of two men who leapt in front of a train late this morning. Witnesses say the men seemed perfectly fine moments before the incident. More as the story develops._

“Sojiro,” Futaba started hesitantly, uneasily, “what time did Akira leave today?”

“Around 10,” his voice was distant as the unlit cigarette fell from his lips. He pulled out his phone. “Have you heard from him?”

Futaba frowned as she messaged the group. The panic was there when everyone in the chat said no but only officially set in when she tried his phone once, twice, seven times. She checked all the social media outlets they were connected on before circling back to a text she had only half acknowledged from around 10:30 this morning. _Snap you when we get there_. Akira wasn’t the type to just forget these things. Nearly hyperventilating, she searched for his location. It showed his phone as being in Shibuya. A tiny flicker of hope allowed the idea that he was just standing still on the sidewalk above ground to flit through her mind, but with an involuntary sob, she dismissed it.

“Gotta get to him...!” She sprang to her feet and was about to run to the station until Sojiro caught her.

“Train’s probably delayed. We’ll drive.” He drove as fast as he could without invoking the ire of the law. Futaba’s phone was buzzing like crazy. The others had probably seen the reports by now. She couldn’t bring herself to answer. She had to know first.

As expected, there was a massive, endless crowd spilling out onto the surface streets. They pushed their way through, dread building at every turn, until they reached the platform in question. There was police tape all around a large portion of the area and uniformed officers swarmed everywhere.

“Please! Let us through,” Futaba shoved her way up to the tape and stood before an officer. “Ma’am-“

“Please stay back,” the officer gently pushed her away from the tape. “It’s no place for the public.”

“M-my brother! I have reason to believe he’s-“ Futaba was starting to hyperventilate again, but with shaking fingers, she pulled up a picture of Akira to show the officer. The last bit of hope plummeted to the ground as she watched the officer’s face twist sympathetically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you skipped over this chapter, no worries. I am nowhere near done writing this work, but I think future chapters will give you the gist of it. Of course, you’re welcome to find me on Twitter, and I’ll summarize. Not trying to baby anyone, but this story is ultimately for entertainment, and it’s kind of hard to enjoy something when you’re blindsided by triggers. I promise it won’t all be doom and gloom though, so please bear with me. Thanks for reading!


	10. Akira: Baby Steps

Futaba takes a deep breath before uncovering her face. “They were sure he was... they didn’t think he’d...” she sniffles as she puts her glasses back on. “He was comatose, and they weren’t expecting that to change. We went to the temple like twice a week for months. They tried a billion times to convince Sojiro to let him go; luckily he’s pretty stubborn when he wants to be. We would all visit and just sit and talk to him as often as they would let us. Haru would bring fresh flowers, Ryuji would read manga to him.

“And then one day he just,” she smiles though her eyes are still wet. “He woke up! Everyone was so excited, it was crazy. Ryuji can even tell you the exact page and panel he was reading when he realized,” she laughs, wiping her eyes again.

“But as great as him waking up was, they assumed he’d be totally paralyzed for the rest of his life. That’s hard enough news for anyone to wake up to, but...” she bites her lip. “Makoto and I found the security video.” They both seem to be holding their breath.

“What did you see?” Akechi nearly whispers.

“They were just waiting like normal. His- that man”—her jaw sets—“was looking at his phone, and then he just grabbed Akira by the wrist and started running to the tracks, and....” Akechi has half a mind to try to comfort her as she takes a few deep breaths.

“You’re wondering about his arm. Well, _that man_ was squashed like the insect he is, gone on the spot. But Akira was still mostly on the platform. His leg was shattered, and the arm....” she winces as she makes a slicing motion straight down from her collarbone. “It took months, but with parts from Mune-San and help from Dr. T, I made him replacements. Obviously, they’re still works in progress,” she taps her tool bag.

Akechi is speechless as he takes it all in. The limp, the medication, the occasional clicking sounds when he moves. The aversion to the train. “How has he been hiding it all this time?”

Futaba picks up the flesh colored glove. “It snaps to his skin at the shoulder. Well, snaps is the wrong word. It’s actually some pretty cool experimental nanotech that—eh. You wouldn’t get it,” she waves it off. “Think the food’s ready, yet?” She pulls out her laptop and leads the way to the kitchen.

•

Akira tries to put the rest of it out of his mind while he takes his morning dose, carefully placing the bottle back in the hiding spot he picked after Akechi’s attempt. But as he waits for the oven to warm up, his mind keeps throwing the memories back into his awareness.

A flash of his father’s hand on his wrist. The unnerving lack of weight on his left side. Ryuji crying over a book. Haru crying over a bouquet. Ann just crying over him.

They’re not all terrible, though. Futaba, Takemi, and Iwai made quick work of replacing his limbs even though the other doctors weren’t optimistic. “He may never move on his own again,” they said. He was moving his arms and pushing himself into a sitting position within the month. “It’s unlikely he’ll ever walk again,” they said. Did that within the year, though it certainly took a lot more time, patience, work, and tears. He recalls the day he was set to finally be released from the hospital.

Sojiro had come to get him and was straightening up a bit after he’d helped Akira get dressed. All that was left were his shoes. Akira leaned down carefully, desperately trying to keep his balance; he had regained some strength but was still getting used to his reconstructed body. He took the laces in his right hand without issue; his left, however, trembled violently each time he tried to grasp the thin string, a dull discomfort running up to his shoulder.

Sojiro turned to him when he noticed the boy breathing a bit too loudly. His heart dropped as he watched Akira struggle to hold the shoe string. Akira lifted his head, face red and wet with tears. "C-can you help m-me?"

More time passed, he got more acquainted with his new limbs. By the time another birthday was coming around, he was even taking a few steps with the aid of a wall here, a sturdy shoulder there. Futaba and Boss both spent less time at the cafe to look after him while he stayed with them. He felt guilty about taking so much of their time, but of course they’d hear none of that. Every little victory was a huge celebration; they had fancy sushi the first time he bent down to pick up a pencil without falling over. And that’s not even mentioning the rest of their friends, even though they were all doing the college thing.

The big day arrived, and Futaba not so subtly hinted at a surprise for which he would need to dress somewhat nicely. They made the walk around the street to Leblanc, Akira a bit embarrassed that it took at least twice as long as it should’ve. No one seemed to mind, though. Morgana even seemed to be enjoying the stroll as he kept a leisurely pace next to them.

They turned the corner to see the small crowd that is the Phantom Thieves and Shiho waiting by the door and looking exponentially more excited as the four approached. They bombarded him with questions and anecdotes as they all shuffled into the cafe, pulling off hats and jackets as they picked seats around the birthday boy. Sojiro started a pot of coffee and grabbed a juice for Ryuji as he listened to them catching up as if it had really been more than a month since the last time they’d seen each other.

They probably would’ve talked for hours longer, but Ryuji had to leave for his part time job soon. Futaba dashed up the stairs to the attic and returned with a box. Everyone seemed to crowd a bit closer as she approached the booth where Akira sat. With a smile, she held the box out to him, folding her arms behind her back as they all waited for him to open it.

Akira unwrapped the gift and froze. On the shoebox was a logo he recognized well. He opened it slowly and took one boot in hand.

“Do you like them? We assumed they’d help with keeping your balance,” Makoto leaned over the table.

“Plus they’re always in style,” Ann nodded.

"You'll have to break them in, but we also got you a ton of good socks to protect your shins and ankles while you do,” Ryuji gave that brilliant smile of his. Akira bit his lip to keep from crying as he looked up.

"Why don't you try em on?" Morgana grinned at him. Akira quickly slid his feet into the boots. He paused and took a deep breath before reaching for the laces. His hand began to shake but not as violently as it had weeks ago. It took him longer than it used to, but he'd done it. He tied both of his shoes. Makoto covered her mouth as tears of joy welled up. He grinned bashfully at his feet, a humble pride in his accomplishment.

"Let's test them out." Everyone looked to Sojiro in shock, but the older man just kept smiling at Akira and motioning him up. Akira started pushing himself up out of the booth, and Ryuji was almost immediately at his side, not intervening but standing by in the event he needed to. Akira stood shakily, holding on to his best friend as he adjusted his weight. When he felt somewhat steady on his feet, he held his hands out in front of him and took his first independent step since the incident. Then another, then a third followed by an even shakier fourth that he stopped to regain his balance from.

As Akira continued to toddle toward him, Sojiro felt himself overflowing with emotion. Just months ago, the doctors were unsure if the kid would even wake up, and when by some miracle he did, they expected total paralysis. Now here he was walking. That alone was enough to make the strongest a bit weepy. But as Akira slowly got closer to him, Sojiro held his own arms out to catch him, and he couldn’t help but to imagine his boy as an actual toddler taking his first steps to him. And that's what hit him hardest as Akira's arms wrapped around his shoulders. He wrapped the boy in a tight hug and fought back tears as Akira whispered a shaky, "I did it."

Sojiro looked to the group at the other end of the cafe as he heard sniffling and muffled sobbing. Ann was crying into Shiho's shoulder, Haru was dabbing Makoto's cheeks with a handkerchief as her own tears escaped, Ryuji held Morgana close as he wiped his eyes. Even Futaba was smiling through tears as she ended the video she was taking.

“Yes, you did. Well done, son."


	11. Akira: Meeting the Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firmly in the present day again

“We demand sustenance, carl!” Futaba calls down the hall. Akira smirks and continues cooking. “What, nothing to say for yourself?”

“You can’t call out to a churl and expect the lord of the manor to respond.”

She snorts. “Is that a proverb? You sound older than Sojiro.” Akira mimics the man’s posture and turns to face her with a scowl not unlike Sojiro’s own. Neither can keep a straight face.

“Come fix your plates,” he calls over his shoulder.

Akechi is trying his hardest not to stare, not to question how they can suddenly be so happy after everything he’d heard that morning. Not to treat Akira any differently now that he can actually see the impressively articulated prosthesis. “Can I help with anything?”

Akira looks at him, a bit caught off guard. “Uh, yeah I guess. The cups,” he steps aside and continues stirring. As Akechi brings the cups to the table, Futaba gives him a look and gently shakes her head “no” before sitting the mug next to her computer and going to get her food.

Once everyone is sat at the table and eating, a silence uncomfortable only to Akechi settles in, punctuated every now and then by Futaba typing.

“You have questions,” Akira gazes through his wild curls, noticing how little Akechi has eaten so far. “That or you don’t like the food.”

Akechi sets his spoon down slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. “Are you ashamed of it?” He internally facepalms.

Akira seems unbothered. “The arm? No. At least it works well, sometimes even better than the first... sometimes not so much.” He drums the mechanized fingers on the table once.

“So why do you cover it up?”

Akira takes a sip of his coffee. “More of a protection thing. It’s built to be able to take on a lot of stuff I may run into on a daily basis, but they all worked so hard on it; I don’t want a scratch on it.” Akechi nods his understanding.

“Plus, it kinda helped with feeling normal,” Akira shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Akechi looks like he so badly wants to say something but ends up just closing his mouth and looking down. “Hey. Save your pity. Didn’t need it then, don’t need it now.” Akira’s smirk at him puts him a bit at ease.

There’s a gentle knock at the door. “What’s the date?” Akira muses as he rises to go answer it. Akechi can hear the voice of an older woman and watches Akira bow slightly as he accepts something and thanks her.

“Was that Abe-San?” Futaba peeks excitedly over the screen.

“Yep. It’s marble month again,” Akira holds up a cake.

“Is Abe-San one of your tenants?” Akechi follows the cake into the kitchen.

“Yeah. She brings cakes as an apology for being late on rent. I used to try to remind her she was actually a month ahead each time, but when Inami-San started getting them, too, we came to the conclusion she just wants to share,” he smiles at nothing in particular and hands the first slice to the man practically drooling over his shoulder. Akechi starts straight into the slice, savoring every bite.

“Earth to Crow!” Futaba flails her arms, snapping him out of his reverie. He hadn’t even realized they were speaking. “Have you found a job yet?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he glances down at where his cake should be and is forlorn to see the plate empty. “Could I have another slice?”

“Just leave some for me?” Akira looks amused.

“You should come work with us, at least until you find something else.”

“Oh! I appreciate the offer, but I’m not cut out to host.”

“That smile says differently~“ Futaba raises her eyebrows. “But don’t think of it as hosting. You’d be more like a waiter.” He seems to consider it.

“We serve a lot of dessert and get to eat what doesn’t sell,” Akira smirks knowingly.

“When might I start?”

•

A couple of months pass without incident—aside from Akechi finishing the cake all by himself that same day— and the two gradually settle into a routine: work, sleep, visit Sojiro and the others, repeat. Akira drinks less now that he gets out more; Akechi has had fewer rage-induced outbursts since starting therapy. They still have disagreements, as any two people will, and they can still be dismissive of each other but with far less vitriol than before. Akechi was enjoying the job much more than he’d expected to and easily assimilating into this new life. They’d all found a new normal, and everything was going well.

One day, Akechi receives a phone call from his fiancée that he takes in his room, and they talk for hours. Akira goes with Inami-San to address three different tenant complaints and then goes to help at Leblanc for a couple of hours. When he returns early that evening, he can’t hear talking anymore but decides not to bother him and steps out to smoke instead.

Minutes later, the door opens behind Akira. "Care if I join you?" He motions to the space as if to say 'be my guest.' "Might I also have one?" Akechi eyes the pack of cigarettes.

"You don't smoke," Akira takes a drag. "Besides, it's bad for you."

Akechi laughs bitterly. "What does that matter now? I've failed at executing all my most important plans, fallen into obscurity, just lost my fiancee, and the closest thing I have to a friend is some depressed cripple who sleeps and smokes his life away after work. I'm pathetic. What does it matter if I self-destruct again?" He looks down and away, hiding the tears that have begun to well in his eyes.

Akira continues looking out over the railing, ignoring the slight. "Akechi, did you miss your affirmations today?" He nods, covering his face with his arm. Akira stamps out his cigarette before resting a hand on Akechi's shoulder. "Hello, world. It's a great day to celebrate life," his face and voice are just as apathetic as usual. "Come on, Akechi, don't leave me hanging." The other man, still sobbing a bit,joins in, "I'm getting stronger every day. No one can make me feel inferior. I know my worth; I choose what I become; and I've decided that I'm good enough. I have the power to change my story, and I will use my failures as stepping stones. Let us conquer today." Akechi wipes the tears from his face.

"Alright, big guy. Why not take a bath and I'll order sushi, hm?"

"I think we're out of cake, as well," Akechi wipes his face again.

"Anything else, your highness?" Akira walks in the house to grab his keys.

"Maybe some chocolate milk. Ah! And maple syrup? We're half through the last bottle." Akechi follows him in.

"Mm. Just remember if you off yourself before I get back, I'm gonna kick your ass, and you won't get any of the food."

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Might we do a strawberry cheesecake?"

"I'll think about it," Akira walks out the door. He gets the shopping done and makes it back before dinner has been delivered. He's half watching a show about house hunting and tuning out Akechi's loud singing from down the hall when the doorbell rings. He grabs his wallet and heads to the door. "Thank you for your hard-"

Akira freezes as his mind attempts to sync up with his eyes. Before him is the bag of their ordered takeout held aloft by a large, thin hand that is attached to a lithe figure with hair that's significantly longer than before but a face that Akira could never forget.

"Yusuke...." comes out as a dry whisper.

The two stare in shocked silence for an unknown length of time. Yusuke is first to speak, though the rest of him remains frozen. "I... ah... I believe the driver chose the wrong door, and..." his hand with the food twitches as he falls silent again.

It's not until Akechi comes to the front room towel drying his hair and asking where the food is that either of the two men look away from each other. Akira clears his throat and fumbles with his wallet, "um... did they ask for a-a tip? Or anything?"

"N-no. No trouble. Just... here you are..." Yusuke breathes, handing over the bag and stealing one more glance at Akira before turning and heading back to his own door.

Akira continues to stare at the space where Yusuke just stood and only moves when Akechi grabs the food from him. "I'm starving. Did you get the cheesecake?"

Akira finally closes the door. "Ah... yeah... yeah. Fridge." He begins walking to his room. "Don't eat my food," he calls in a distant tone that differs from his normal apathy. Akechi notices that he sounds shaken and makes a mental note to ask about it later.


	12. A Shaky Start

"Come now, you don't want to be late, do you?" Akechi steps out onto the front porch.

"Of course I wanna be late. I don't wanna go," Akira locks the door before heading toward the stairs.

"You've never even worked karaoke night."

"Not a coincidence."

"It's really not what you think. It's great fun, and once we have the first participant, it's quite lively."

"Great." Akira sits in the driver's seat as Akechi takes passenger.

"So grumpy. Would you at least try to refrain from running the patrons off?"

He sighs. “Well, at least I'm just working the bar like always. Guess I'm still in my element."

"Excellent! Some positivity!" Akechi breaks into song as Akira navigates the 6:00 PM traffic.

Once they arrive, they chat with the others as they get changed for the evening. Everyone begins filing out to their assigned areas, leaving Akechi leaning over the vanity, that sunny aura giving way to something more vulnerable. "Um, Akira?" Akira turns to him just before reaching the door, knowing exactly what this is about.

"You are enough, people love you, and you'll do great." Akira waits for Akechi to take a deep breath and nod back before leaving out.

•

They return home shortly after 3 AM. Akechi heads in for a shower while Akira stays out for a smoke. He's leaning over the balcony rail when he hears footsteps on the stairs. He takes a drag as he waits to see who else keeps such crazy hours, and once the smoke dissipates, he can clearly identify the form that appears to be approaching him.

"Ah-! Good... good morning."

"Good morning. Ah... early start?" Akira puts out his cigarette.

"More of a late end, I suppose," Yusuke clasps his hands together in front of him. After standing in silence for some time, "Would you perhaps like to come in for tea or... something?"

"I-I don't want to intrude so late at night," Akira taps his toe on the ground.

"Ah... truly, it is no trouble. Though I wouldn't want to keep you when you're busy." Yusuke hesitates, gently gnawing his bottom lip. Akira stares at his own feet. "Well, I... it was nice to see you again." Yusuke still doesn't turn to leave for what feels like a long while. "Then..." with a small sigh, he turns to his door, twisting the key in the lock.

"Yusuke?" They look at each other. "Can I maybe make you some coffee?"

•

"So uh, how've you been?" Akira leans stiffly against the counter in Yusuke’s apartment. It’s hard to tell how long he’s been here with all the paintings on the walls and boxes in the corner.

"Few complaints, I suppose. Yourself?"

"Some injuries and... things... but making it, I guess."

"I was wondering about that limp," Yusuke notes expectantly.

"Ah just... accident." He turns to the not yet boiling kettle.

"An accident?"

"It's dumb, really."

"Not to me."

He clears his throat before turning around. "I uh... I just barely missed being hit by a train. Well I mean... being killed by a train. I was... still kinda hit..." he gestures to the left half of his body.

"Akira...!"

"I'm alright. Just the limp and some chronic pain and...." he trails off.

"When did this happen?"

"Almost three years ago."

Yusuke stares into the distance, making a face Akira can't quite describe. "I've missed everything."

Akira watches him intently, desperately wondering what he’s thinking about. This is the second time they’ve run into each other since he’s been back, and it still feels like some giant hand is holding his chest for ransom. Everything he’d thought he may have possibly felt in high school is vague and elusive and just lurking until the absolute worst time to come rushing out. What did he want to tell him? Will Yusuke wish he’d never run into him again if he ever finds the words? He did leave without a goodbye after all.

Yusuke blinks out of his trance, which in turn brings Akira back to the present. Akira takes a deep breath, considering his next words carefully. "I... I thought... I was worried we'd never see you again,” comes just above a whisper. They stare at each other for a long while until the kettle starts to whistle, startling them both. Akira clears his throat as he turns to it. "So uh... how was it? France and... everything...."

“It was an experience for certain,” Yusuke answers in an even tone as he turns to pull two mugs from the cabinet. Akira notes how little he has to say about two whole years of his life in a foreign, famously beautiful country and wonders just how bad it had to have been. Or maybe it’s just none of his business and Yusuke is too well-mannered to say it.

“Wait,” it suddenly occurs to him. “Was it not a four year program?”

“It was,” Yusuke looks away.

“What’re you doing back? I-I mean not that it’s not g-great to finally see you again,” Akira stammers.

Yusuke takes a deep breath as his brow furrows. “I learned many things in my time away.” Akira waits for the rest of the explanation. “Have you kept in touch with the others?” 

“Uh yeah....” Akira is caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. “Ryuji and Ann are working through school, Makoto and Haru are on their last year. Futaba runs a club that-“

“A club?” His eyes widen. “She’s grown quite a lot, hasn’t she.”

“I’m sure they’ll all be glad to see you,” Akira smiles softly until he notices how closed off Yusuke’s posture is, how sad he looks. “Y-Yusuke?” he calls without thinking. When their eyes meet, he feels compelled to hug him. He tightens his grip on the mug instead. “I’m really glad you’re back.” Yusuke smiles sadly and stares at the floor. Akira awkwardly checks his watch. “I should probably get back. I... guess I’ll see you around.”

Yusuke looks at him but still doesn’t meet his eyes. “I look forward to it. Thank you for the drink.” Akira nods to him as he steps out. It’s not until he’s locking his own door that he realizes he’s still got Yusuke’s mug. He smirks to himself; now he has an excuse to see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...as if he needs one


	13. What Just Happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, this story is marked mature.

A couple of the guys from work had heard about a party some big shot was throwing at the Wilton. They’d mentioned something about possibly needing extra hands for drinks and... other entertainment. Akira declined, still a bit salty about the people they ran into that one time they came to eat here years ago; but Futaba offered to pay extra by the hour—“Go advertise us!”

So here they are. Akira is standing near a wall, hands in his pockets, watching the other partiers with vague interest. He spots Akechi at a table, surrounded by fawning women and almost laughs at just how natural being a host seems to come to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches...Yusuke?

He wears an uneasy expression as he stares at the drink in his hand, and the man sitting next to him leans in to whisper in his ear. He can see the way Yusuke slightly, though certainly not subtly, pulls away from the man, clearly uncomfortable with this interaction. Akira starts walking and reaches them just as the man rests his hand on Yusuke's knee. Yusuke looks up at his old friend, dazed yet relieved. His eyes look strange.

"There you are, darling." The stranger looks up, surely about to tell Akira just how he could spend his evening, but Akira acts as if the man isn't even there. He tilts Yusuke's chin up and kisses him firmly yet gently on the lips before taking the drink from his hand. "Ready to go?" He smiles at his "lover,” his heart beating so fast it may as well have stopped.

Yusuke blushes and looks up at Akira with an uncharacteristically demure and still obviously disoriented expression, confirming Akira's suspicions. "Ah, yes." Akira leads him away, his hand protectively on Yusuke's lower back, in case the sleaze is still watching.

He takes the still mostly full cup to the bartender. "Hey, Remi, could I get some ice for this, please?"

"White drink special?"

Akira sighs. "Yeah." The bartender nods the nearest security guard in the direction Akira glared as he puts the cup in a safe spot for later analysis, Futaba’s own system to combat date rape. Akira watches long enough to see three men in black suits approach the creep before he leads Yusuke to the glass doors on the other side of the room.

Once they're out on the balcony, they're alone besides the couple in the corner who are clearly too far gone to even notice them. "Akira..." Yusuke is looking around slowly. Akira stands with his back toward the glass and metal railing. "I'm... I feel dizzy and... not myself? I feel... hot... and I'm heavy and floating. Do you think... something was in my drink..." he looks at Akira in sluggish alarm.

"Seems so. Are you hurt? Did he touch you?" Akira searches Yusuke's face then turns to see what he's staring at behind him. He forgot this was the penthouse and is just thinking that the highest balcony in this part of the city may not have been the best place to bring his drugged, acrophobic friend when Yusuke makes a small noise.

"Aki-!" He seems to be falling as he reaches for him. Akira moves just in time to grab him and take him in his arms.

"Shh. It's ok. We're ok." He runs his fingers through Yusuke's hair. After the artist has calmed down a bit, Akira moves them to the bench against the rail, with some difficulty since Yusuke's arms are still wrapped around his neck. The backs of his knees connect with the seat sooner than expected, and he falls backward, pulling Yusuke with him and landing with said artist straddling his lap on the bench, something that seems to surprise only Akira. He's still as a statue and unsure what the next step should be since he can clearly feel a very specific heat on his thighs.

"Akira?" Yusuke turns to bury his face in the other man's neck. "It's so hot. It's... strange... it's a feeling I know but so intense...." Yusuke lifts his head only to rest his forehead on Akira's. "I'm so hot, Akira." Even without seeing the look in his eyes, Akira would've been more than aware of the need dripping from Yusuke's tone. When Akira still doesn't move, Yusuke bites his lip as he tears up. "Mmm... Akira... I-I'm sorry... ahh... I'm sorry..." Yusuke buries one hand in Akira's thick mane as he begins to grind against his lap. His breathing quickly picks up. Akira remains still. Breathy moans begin to escape along with the tears and apologies. Akira doesn't move. With a sob, Yusuke completely falls apart, grinding out the last of his high before he collapses against Akira's chest.

It's still some time before Akira moves a muscle, and when he does, Yusuke is asleep. He maneuvers them around until he can pick the long-haired man up and carry him to the car. After sending a quick text to Akechi, Akira begins the drive back, Yusuke sound asleep in the passenger seat.

His mind and heart are still racing as he parks in front of their building and unbuckles both himself and Yusuke before heading out to get him. He carries him up the stairs to their doors but picks his own out of simplicity.

After locking the door, Akira heads to his room and lays Yusuke face up on the bed. He stops to think for a minute before going ahead and undressing him and carefully washing him up with a damp towel. He finds Yusuke's key in his jacket pocket and runs to grab some clothes from his apartment as quickly as he can, lest the other man wake up naked and alone in a strange room. He locks up and returns to find him exactly where he left him, mumbling in his sleep. He carefully dresses Yusuke and tucks him in before he changes his own clothes and starts making himself comfortable on the couch.

Even after his nightly dose, sleep doesn't come easily. Akira can't stop thinking about what just happened. He'd just seen one of his closest friends stark naked. Granted, they'd been to the bath house together a few times in the past, but there was always the unspoken agreement that they'd actively NOT look at each other until they were dressed again. Let alone touch. And while briefly and only by way of gently running a towel over the sweaty, body fluid-covered parts, Akira had touched Yusuke. Naked. The third and final straw was how they'd come to that in the first place. Yusuke, under the influence of a probably illegal, definitely unethical drug, had....

Akira's entire body heats up as he rubs his eyes and fights both the impulse to shower and the unsettling creeping need to touch himself. He turns on the tv and tries to put it out of his mind. It’s well after 3 when he finally drifts off to sleep.

Akira wakes to find Yusuke fiddling with the ends of his sleeves and nervously watching him. He sits up to stretch, a bit surprised with how at ease he feels even after the previous night. "You sleep okay?" Akira rubs his eyes.

"Ah- yes." There's a pause. "I... vaguely remember last night, and I'd like to thank you for all of your kindness in helping me out of my predicament and apologize for my carelessness to even require such assistance in the first place. How can I repay you?" Yusuke bows deeply, hiding his reddened cheeks.

Akira takes a pill in hand and caps the bottle again. "Help me make breakfast?"

Minutes later, they have ingredients laid out. They've just stopped laughing at how funny each other looks with the ponytail holders holding back their bangs when Akechi walks in. "Oh, hello," his voice is hoarse. He freezes as he really takes in the scene. "What's... going on?"

"Makin' breakfast," Akira preheats the oven, his back to the silent, one-sided war between the other two men.

"Wonderful," Akechi's voice is just a bit too high. "I think I'll go wash my sins away now," he speeds down the hall.

" _That_ is your roommate?!"

Akira turns and has a hard time taking Yusuke's sharp tone seriously with the cute yet ridiculous ponytail on the front of his head. "Yeah. And I know what you're thinking, but we have an understanding. There's no excuse for the things he did, but you know as well as I do that people can change. I don't expect you to be okay with him just because I'm past it now, and I can definitely understand any lingering hard feelings. If you'd rather not be around him, we'll spend less time here when he's home, but this is just how it is."

Yusuke seems to consider this before shaking his head with a sigh. "I see you’re still terrible at giving up on lost causes," Yusuke smiles fondly at the man buttering a frying pan next to him. "I cannot trust him, but I do trust you, and to that end, I will endeavor to be cordial. Can't promise not to take a swing, though," that last bit partially under his breath as he opens a pack of bacon. Akira laughs aloud.

"You wouldn't be the first."


	14. Good Night, Rough Morning

Akechi answers the door and silently steps aside so Yusuke can enter. Much like they did a few months ago for Akechi, the group has made plans to meet at Club Velvet before it opens for the night to catch up with Yusuke. Akira comes down the hall to see the two sat awkwardly on opposite ends of the couch—Akechi scrolling aimlessly through his phone, Yusuke basically studying the molecular composition of the plant in the corner—both silently looking anywhere but at each other.

Amused, Akira pulls his jacket on. “Ready to go?” They both spring to their feet, almost too eager to get out of here. Akira locks up and leads the way to the car. The tension is clearly stifling the two of them—though Akechi seems more affected than Yusuke—while Akira just laughs to himself. They ride in relative silence for a while, the radio low and not playing anything interesting at the moment.

“Please, tell me more about this place we are going.” Yusuke asks from the back seat. Akechi launches into the explanation, glad to break the silence. “How fascinating! Joker, do you dance as well?”

Akira has no idea why he’s blushing. “A bit.”

“Wonderful! This is sure to be an exciting evening!” Yusuke beams and Akira has to force his eyes away from the rear view mirror and back to the road. They idly discuss tonight’s theme—Decade Dash, Akira cringes at the name that won the staff vote—until a hush falls over them. Akechi turns the radio up, taking the aux cord and putting his playlist on shuffle. While he’s skipping through the first few songs, something catches Yusuke’s attention. “Ah!” he leans forward. “Go back!”

“This one? You listen to them, too, Kitagawa?”

“Do I listen to them?” Yusuke scoffs. “I have all the albums and even went to see them in concert while abroad.”

“Really?!” Akechi turns in his seat. “How was it?”

“As perfect as you can imagine.”

Akira grins to himself as they rave about the band, even more amused at just how easily they were reconciled. He pulls into his usual parking spot, the other two still singing as they get out. They walk in with a couple of hours to spare before it’s time to open. “It’s us,” Akira calls into the space.

Futaba pokes her head out from behind the stage curtain. “And just where the hell have you been?” She runs to Yusuke.

He accepts her hug. “It is nice to see you as well.”

“Way to keep in touch! We thought you died.” She stomps her foot as they separate.

“My apologies. I lost my phone.”

“You’re hopeless, you know that? Anyway, help us take down chairs. Crow, remind me to give you the updated reservation list.”

They all get to work setting tables, Futaba lobbing question after question at Yusuke all the while. Akira notices the way he answers with just enough information for her to move on to the next topic but an obvious vagueness. On the one hand, a part of him is glad he won’t tell her much either; maybe Yusuke doesn’t actually hate him like he’d feared—or not _just_ him, at the very least.

On the other, he so badly wants to know. What happened while he was away? Why did he leave the way he did? Why didn’t he tell anyone he was back? Why doesn’t Yusuke trust him anymore? Akira shakes the thoughts away with a sigh. Despite the name, he really enjoys Decade Dash nights, and this is very near the top of the list of things that’ll surely bring him down if he lets his mind linger.

He’s checking the shine on the glasses at the bar when Yusuke finally escapes the inquisition and makes his way over. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

“I think that’s everything for now,” he looks around as if to make sure. 

Yusuke takes a seat on one of the barstools. “How long have you been tending bar?”

“Just a few months here, probably a little over a year altogether.”

“Was it difficult to adapt to?”

“It’s not so different from working at Leblanc. There was this bar in Shinjuku I took a job at back in high school. More customers and noise, and Lala-Chan was nicer than Sojiro, but there’s still a certain way to do things to get the best possible taste and make sure the customer has a good time.”

Yusuke perks up. “Could you perhaps be referring to Lala Escargot?”

“You know her?”

“She gave me the inspiration for one of the works that got me acceptance to university. I’ve been wanting to thank her for quite some time.”

“I can take you to see her whenever you’re up for it.”

“I would be most grateful.” He bows his head slightly.

Akira returns his smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I don’t suppose you have coffee.”

“No, sorry. But I do know a nice little hole in the wall in Yongen, if you’re interested,” Akira smirks at him.

“Sounds lovely. Why don’t you take me there some time?” Yusuke replies with a wry smile of his own. They share a laugh as Akira turns away, pretending to be busy with something on the back wall. What was that? Was that flirting or just Yusuke being Yusuke? If it were the latter, the words would be ambiguous while the delivery remained innocent. But that.... He’s never seen him look at anyone or anything like that. And his voice.... Suppressing a shiver, Akira lets himself believe it was the former, if only for tonight.

“Well well well, if it ain’t the pretty boy himself,” Ryuji calls from the doorway. With a modest smirk, Yusuke stands and accepts Ryuji’s side hug and listens to his various observations about his appearance. Akira brings them drinks, and they settle into the usual checklist of topics people follow when they haven’t seen each other in a while, restarting with each new person’s arrival.

Once everyone’s seated, Akira glances around the table, almost reeling at how like old times it feels. Of course there are differences; they all look more mature, have changed hair and piercings and so on, Haru’s just a bit more talkative, Akechi gets along with everyone, and so on. Akira smiles, allowing himself to block out everything except right now, just for tonight.

The couple of extra hours fly by, and Futaba, Akira, and Akechi tear themselves away to go get ready for the night once the other employees start arriving. Everyone else has agreed to stick around for a while, much to Akira’s delight. The shift starts as it normally does: Akechi steps out from behind the curtain to cheers and applause which he humbly accepts before welcoming the guests for the evening, the dj starts the music, Akira and two other hosts do a few bar tricks.

Akira is excessively aware of Yusuke’s eyes on him the whole time. He puts a little extra oomph in just for him and is rewarded with applause and a smile that sets his insides ablaze. They all playfully tease him when he brings them their drinks before going back to serve the other patrons.

Halfway through his water, Yusuke whips his head around at the start of one song in particular. “Is dancing allowed?” He turns to Futaba, sitting the drink down with urgency.

“Yeah. Everyone else is just too sober right now,” she’s explaining, but Yusuke has already left for the dance floor. And he doesn’t hold back. Soon, Ann and Haru are rushing to join him, and a small crowd of patrons isn’t too far behind. Ryuji takes advantage of the newly emptied barstools to sit with Akira for a bit.

“Who knew?” he laughs as they watch Yusuke bow to the ladies once the song ends. Ryuji turns and catches the way Akira is eyeing the man across the way, clearly daydreaming with an expression Ryuji’s never seen him make before. “Hey,” Ryuji gets his attention. “You uh... interested?” He gestures over his shoulder.

“What?” Akira blinks rapidly, caught off guard.

“You like him, don’t you?” Ryuji asks. It doesn’t sound like a question, but Akira can’t read anything else from his tone. He was going to deny it, but he feels his face heat up and takes a step backward, hanging his head as he slowly nods. “Huh,” Ryuji looks back to Yusuke still talking to Haru. “So... what’re you gonna do about it?”

“Pretend like I don’t.”

Ryuji gives him a sad but understanding look. “Well, your secret’s safe with me.” Akira lifts his head to look at him, the gratitude pouring from his eyes. “Dude, c’mon, you can’t be crying during the Decade Dash!” He finishes off his drink. “I know just the thing to cheer you up.” Ryuji hops off the barstool and makes his way to the dj to request a song, pausing to joke with Yusuke on the way.

As Ryuji passes by, Yusuke finishes off his water and starts walking back to Akira at the bar, spying Akechi with a guest on the way. “M-madam, I’m not very comfortable with that,” he appears to be trying to escape.

“Is there a problem here?” Yusuke stops at the table.

“Well-“

“Not at all. I gave a particularly difficult command; it’s only natural he’d be a bit hesitant to follow.”

“Perhaps you should change your command. Surely it’s more fun if both of you enjoy yourselves.”

“I paid top dollar for this one; it’s only right he do as I say.”

“If I am understanding correctly, that is not the way this works. He is an entertainer meant to help liven up your evening. He is not property to be paid for and abused.”

The lady springs to her feet. “He is whatever I say he is tonight. I paid for him; therefore, he is mine. Get lost.”

Undeterred, Yusuke steps forward and firmly sets the glass down on the table before leaning toward the woman. “That sort of behavior requires a mutually agreed upon contract, and clearly, you two are not it agreement. I must say, I don’t enjoy repeating myself, so please listen well: cease your harassment at once or there will be consequences.” Not once does he yell, but the uneasy calm in his voice has the entire table struck silent as the lady stares in awe. Yusuke straightens, nods to the others at the table as he grabs his cup, and continues back to the bar.

“Since when do you know how to dance like that?” Akira grins when Yusuke walks up to return the glass.

“I would hardly call it know-how,” Yusuke laughs. “But I suppose for as long as-“

“That’s him,” he hears a voice behind him. They both look to see Futaba and the rude lady from just a moment ago. The lady hurries toward him. “You. I want you instead.”

“I beg your pardon?” Yusuke sets the empty glass down.

“You’re right. He’s a bit soft for what I had in mind. I want you to take his place.”

“That is absurd,” Yusuke shakes his head with a laugh.

“Really! I’ll pay you exactly what he’s getting, no twice that!”

Yusuke shakes his head. “Madam, you misunderstand. I am merely a guest here as well. Besides,” he leans down again. “I have certain expectations, and you could stand to learn some discipline.”

Akira fumbles the glass he was drying off. The lady nods timidly and hurries back to her waiting friends. Futaba watches her go and immediately turns to Yusuke. “You need a job?”

•

They return home around 3 as usual, still in high spirits. “As expected, tonight was simply marvelous.” Yusuke smiles as they make their way up the stairs.

“I have to thank you for intervening. Normally, she is much calmer than that.”

“Hopefully, she took my words to heart, and this can be avoided in the future,” Yusuke nods.

Akira unlocks the door and steps aside. “Well, I’m going first. Have a good night, Kitagawa-kun.”

“You do the same,” they nod to each other as Akechi steps through the doorway. “Thank you for inviting me this evening,” he turns to Akira. “It has been ages since I’ve enjoyed myself so thoroughly.”

“Thanks for coming with us. It was great to see you back with everyone again.”

“Indeed. If it pleases you, we will see much more of each other in the near future,” Yusuke smiles.

Akira breaks into a cold, full-body sweat, his heart flutters just at the edge of death, his mind simultaneously blank and filled with a number of unspeakable scenarios. “Sounds good,” he smiles, too, somehow managing to affect nonchalance as he steadies himself against the door.

They say their farewells, and Akira locks up, taking deep breaths as he waits for his dinner to heat up. Akechi frees up the shower just as he’s finishing the last bite. They pass each other in the hall, swapping tasks almost like a tag team.

Akira can hear his phone ringing as he steps out of the shower. He lets it ring while he dries off and pulls on his sweats for the night. Almost as soon as the ringing stops, it starts back up again. A bit more concerned, he reads the caller ID and answers it.

•

There's frantic knocking at Yusuke's door that pulls him out of his musings on this latest sketch. Barely even aware of the time, he briefly checks the peep hole before opening the door. "Akira...?"

The man is standing there with his head hung and his shoulders heaving. "Ah..." he starts as he lifts his head, still not meeting Yusuke's gaze. "I'm sorry to bother you so late. I-" his voice falters. "I didn't even think, I just...." He does look at Yusuke now, and his eyes are overflowing.

"Akira, what is the matter?" Yusuke holds him by the arms as he searches his face, concern evident in his countenance.   
  
  


Akira responds with a single word, and they’re in the car. The entire ride is a blur. Yusuke can’t remember if he locked or even shut his door, if he has his wallet, or even when he learned to drive. None of that matters right now.

They run into the ER entrance. Akira looks around frantically, quickly approaching the onset of a panic attack. Yusuke asks the receptionist to point them in the right direction. The lady is kind enough and even wishes them well. Yusuke never forgets his manners but quickly goes to Akira who's practically hyperventilating as he paces and fiddles with that one low-hanging curl. Yusuke gently grabs his arm and turns him so they're face to face. Akira, now miles away from his usual nonchalance, wraps his arms around Yusuke and buries his face in his shoulder. Yusuke doesn't hesitate to return the hug.

"Akira," his voice is even gentler than usual, somehow even more calming. "It is alright. This is a frightening situation, but we will make it through it. But you must breathe. Listen to my heart, follow my voice, and breathe. I am here with you, and it will be alright." Soon Akira's breathing normalizes a bit, and his grip relaxes. "How are we feeling?"

Akira simply nods and straightens his glasses as he pulls away. "Better," his voice hoarse from the crying.

"Are you sure? Futaba is back there and will likely require this same level of care. Are you prepared to offer it?" Akira's brow furrows, and he nods more resolutely. He's always prepared to push his needs aside for those of his loved ones.

Yusuke leads the way down the hall.

•

After some time, a nurse comes to lead Akira to the room. He had no idea what to expect as the door swings open. He sees Futaba first, sitting in a chair with her head resting on the blanket. She smiles weakly at him before turning to look up at the patient.

”took you long enough,” Sojiro jokes, his voice not quite as full as usual but stronger than Akira was expecting.

He allows himself a small, relieved smile. "You gonna make it, old man?"

"Heh. You won't get rid of me that easy." Futaba wipes at her eyes as she smirks at the comment.

Akira's tone grows more serious. "You had us worried, Dad."

"I know." Sojiro motions him closer. "Well come on. I'm tired of looking at that pitiful mug of yours." Akira breathes a broken laugh as he leans down to hug Sojiro, tears falling again of their own volition. Sojiro holds him just as tightly.

Akira neither knows nor cares how much time has passed before Sojiro pats him on the back. He pulls away then, wiping the remnants of tears away. "I-I'll go tell Yusuke." He pauses at the door and turns to look at him.

"Go on, kid. I'll be here in the morning. I promise," Sojiro waves him out as Futaba rests her head on his shoulder.

Akira returns to the waiting room and sees Yusuke holding a tissue in one hand and his phone in the other. He has to walk directly into his line of sight for Yusuke to notice him. He looks up expectantly, to which Akira responds with a tired but happy smirk and a nod. He clears his throat as Yusuke allows a relieved sigh to escape. It's not until the other man sits back in his seat and closes his eyes that Akira notices the redness contrasting his dark lower lashes and the pure exhaustion in his now relaxed form.

He sits next to him and rests his hand on his arm. Yusuke opens his eyes and nods once to Akira before they both lie back in their chairs. After some time, Akira wakes to the sound of a man's voice.

"Mr. Sakura?"

"Akira," a shaking from his right. He opens his eyes then. Yusuke nods to the man in front of them.

"Are you the son of Sakura Sojiro?"

"Ah yeah, yes I am," he's still trying to pull it together. "Is-is he alright? Did something happen?"

"No, sir. Everything is fine. He's awake and alert and stable. We will be discussing a few things regarding his health going forward, and we like to include all caregivers so that everyone is on the same page."

"Thank you." Akira turns to Yusuke—who simply nods, a soft smile on his face—before he follows the doctor back to Sojiro's room.

•

"It was a heart attack,” Akira informs Yusuke as they make the drive back home. “We'll have to help him eat right, exercise, relax, things like that." Akira's not used to being in the passenger seat. "And he's supposed to quit smoking."

"Oh?" Yusuke raises an eyebrow, not looking away from the road. "How will you help with that?"

"Get him some gum or something, first, and if that doesn't work, try something else. And I plan to quit, too." He looks out the window. Yusuke does look at him then, now that they're at a stoplight.

"Really? I commend your dedication to the matter. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot longer than I usually write in multi-chapter works. Also just a note about this story overall now that Royal is out in the west: I’m about 75 hours in now and have decided that it won’t change this story. If I come across something that I just absolutely have to add, I will either post a completely separate version of this same work or just a small thing focused on the changes. Either way, this version of Best Laid Plans will by safe from Royal spoilers, and anything else will be tagged and noted. Thanks for reading!


	15. We Owe at Least That Much

They take the next day to rest, hoping to catch up on their missed sleep by napping off and on. Yusuke comes over as Akira is explaining the situation to Akechi who’s taking his turn at preparing dinner by ordering takeout.

“It is certainly a relief that he’s alright,” Akechi says earnestly, nodding to Akira before returning to browsing through potential restaurants.

“Yeah. Futaba and I are probably gonna help him clean up the shop and everything,” Akira rummages for snacks and brings a cup of Jagariko to Yusuke.

“If I may be of assistance, I’d be more than happy to join you,” Yusuke looks up at him, accepting the snack gratefully.

Akechi nods his agreement. “Why don’t we all go? I think it’s fair to say we all owe him at least that much.”

•

The next day, the three of them load into Akira’s car with a bucketful of cleaning supplies in hand and make the trip to Yongen. He parks in the usual spot near Sojiro’s car, and they make the short walk to Leblanc, hair already pulled back and tied away. The reflection on the glass makes it difficult to see much past the closed sign on the door as Akira tries the knob. They’re greeted by Futaba sparing them a peace sign as she finishes off a plate of curry.

“Hey! Is that the artist boy?” Sojiro grins and rises to hug him. “The hair...” he gives an appraising look. “Suits you. You in town to visit?”

“No, sir. I am home to stay.”

“What happened with school?”

“I found there were other worthwhile opportunities back here.”

“Hm. Well I hope this one didn’t drag you all this way just to clean,” he shoots a teasing glance at Akira.

“It is no trouble whatsoever. I’ve been meaning to return for some time now. This place is as comfortable as I recall,” he gazes around the room fondly.

“That’s an awfully nice way of saying old and dusty,” Futaba puts her plate in the sink.

“You know where the rags are,” Sojiro calls over his shoulder at her. “You boys eat yet?”

“No. Thought we’d take our payment up front,” Akira follows him behind the counter and starts helping make plates.

They make easy small talk while they eat and then get right into cleaning. Akira finishes up dishes while Futaba begrudgingly takes the duster from Sojiro. The older man tries to go for the mop, but Akechi politely yet firmly takes it from him, respectfully suggesting he take a seat as Yusuke starts bringing stacks of books and papers to the center booth for him to sort.

After a while, there’s a satisfying shine on every surface, and everyone is parked in the booths with their feet up, the floor still drying and Sojiro still strolling through the memories buried in the stacks.

“Well I’ll be,” Sojiro straightens his glasses as he pulls a photograph from between the pages of a cookbook and passes it to Futaba. “Do you remember this?”

“Sushi trip,” she gasps. Akira glances over her shoulder to find a picture of her and her mother outside a restaurant, Sojiro awkwardly peeking up from the bottom left corner. Futaba stares at the picture for a while.

“You hold on to that,” Sojiro starts on the last book, the finds within a bit less heavy. Once he’s finally decided what’s staying and what’s going, Yusuke returns the books to their shelves, and Akechi throws away the rest. While they do that, Sojiro hands an envelope to Akira. It’s time-worn and bent at one corner. He turns it over to find his name on the sealed flap. Just as he goes to open it, the other two return.

“You boys look exhausted.” Sojiro goes to the fridge. “I would have made dinner, but you’d just have to wash up again.” He distributes plastic bowls to the three. “Make sure I get these bowls back,” he instructs when he gets to Akira. They all follow him out as he locks up for the evening. They’re standing at the gate to Sojiro’s when they stop to exchange their farewells for the evening.

“Ah, before we forget,” Yusuke holds out a hand to Akira who simply stares at it, confused. “Recall our conversation on the drive home from the hospital.” Akira’s eyes widen; Yusuke maintains eye contact. With an incredulous look, Akira pulls the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and hands them over. “And with all due respect, Sakura-San...” Yusuke turns to Sojiro, hand out. The older man looks just as shocked as Akira but soon relents with a sigh. “Thank you,” Yusuke bows his head in deference.

“Yeah yeah,” Sojiro waves him off, turning to go inside. “Get home safely.”

”We should count each of them, so we’ll know if he tries to take one,” Akechi whispers to Yusuke just quietly enough for Akira to not hear as they finally reach the car. But it’s not like he’s listening either way. His face is grim and twisted in concern the whole drive home.


	16. Three Years Ago Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm

A few days later, Yusuke is locking his door to come over as he usually does now. He, Akechi, and Futaba have been keeping tabs on Sojiro’s and Akira’s attempts to quit smoking. Some days are easier than others, but he enjoys the company all the same. As he waits for someone to let him in, there’s a series of thumps followed by expletives loud enough for him to hear through the door.

“What happened?” Akechi makes his way down the hall and sees his roommate lying on the floor.

“Just getting back from Wonderland,” Akira snaps, sweat running down from his temple as he slowly pushes himself onto his back.

Akechi steps over him to answer the door for Yusuke. “What was that noise?”

“Our intrepid leader has just returned from exploring the cosmos,” Akechi looks over to the man trembling on the floor.

“Would you just bring me something for my hair?” He slowly pushes himself into a sitting position.

“Can I offer any assistance?” Yusuke steps closer to him.

“Cigarette.”

“Come now. It has already been five days. I thought you were going for the record.”

“Five days and 18 hours, basically a week. My whole body is jittery, everything hurts, I can’t think straight, and I kinda wanna hit something. Screw the record.”

Akechi comes back into the front room. “Here, the cute little cat ears to match your attitude.” Akira scowls and snatches the headband from him. “It’s too early in the day to hate everything, you know.”

Akira softens as Yusuke grabs him under the arms and pulls him to his feet. He manages to stifle a cry from the pain of moving so suddenly. “I don’t hate everything. Just him,” he confesses quietly.

“Him?” Akechi ponders who it could be. “Your father.”

“Sakura-San?” Yusuke sounds alarmed.

A surprised laugh escapes, the thought that everyone so fully associates them as family warming his heart. “No. Definitely not.”

Before Yusuke can inquire further, there’s a rhythmic knock at the door that he goes to answer. “Hello,” he greets Ryuji as he steps inside, convenience store bags in hand.

They all look to the man propping himself up against the couch. “I brought snacks and a ton of movies to pick from,” Ryuji sounds excited as usual but eyes Akira carefully. Akira only nods, his breathing labored.

“Think... think I’m just a little tired...” he gazes at nothing in particular.

Ryuji sets the bags on the coffee table. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“I can do it myself.” He attempts one wobbly step away from the couch and nearly crumples in on himself.

“Quit being so stubborn before you fall and break something, jackass.” Ryuji’s tone is a lot softer than his words as he crouches in front of him. “Now come on.” Akira complies, resting limply on Ryuji’s back as he carries him to his room.

"Kitagawa-kun?" Akechi approaches almost nervously once the others are out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"There is something I must tell you," he quietly starts into his story.

Late last night, after they’d both gone to bed, he could hear the sounds of a struggle from Akira’s room. Just as he was going to investigate, a cry rang out, and he rushed to his door. Akira was already on his way to the kitchen in a blind panic; Akechi followed quietly.

Akira had grabbed a knife and fallen to his knees on the kitchen floor. With trembling hands, he pressed the serrated edge against his inner thigh and slowly pulled up. He groaned through gritted teeth as he slumped backward against the cabinets, his breathing slowly starting to even out. Akechi kept to the shadows, and after an endless, tense moment, Akira struggled to his feet and washed the knife before putting it away in the junk drawer, away from the others. He grabbed a large bandage and hobbled back down the hall, too deep into the void that drove him to do this to ever notice Akechi was awake, let alone watching him.

"When he shut the door, I went to get the knife to put away so he couldn't find it. I know I should've done more, but-"

Yusuke shakes his head. "Who would know what to do in a situation like that? Good thinking on hiding the weapon."

Akechi looks down at the loose thread he's fiddling with, thankful that Yusuke doesn't blame him the way he blames himself. "Yes, but I'm afraid it wasn't an isolated event."

"I suppose not if it was his first and only thought in that headspace."

"That and..." Akechi steps into his room to grab a box from the closet. He opens the lid, and they both look troubled.

"How long do you suppose this has been going on?"

"I couldn’t say. I just grabbed all of the ones in the separate drawer.” Akechi closes the box. “And I doubt he’d ever tell me the truth. Confronting him will only anger him and make him defensive, especially now.” He returns the box to its spot in the closet. “I believe he will always be more guarded with me than he would be with you.”

Yusuke nods his understanding. "I will do something about this. Thank you for sharing this information with me.”

Just then, Ryuji makes his way back. “I didn’t know we were expecting you today, Sakamoto-kun,” Akechi peeks into the bags.

“Oh, yeah. When he first moved here, we’d come to see him every day, make sure everything was alright since he was alone and everything. And last year, he had a pretty rough time of it when the day came around, so I thought we’d make a thing of it, try and keep his mind off it,” Ryuji shrugs.

“Wait...” Akechi’s eyes widen. “Does that mean today is the anniversary?” He pales when Ryuji nods.

“The anniversary of what, if I may?” Yusuke looks between the other two, noticing the meaningful, heavy look they share.

With a sigh, Ryuji begins in a hushed tone. “Yusuke, you remember what all went down just before he went to juvie? What he told us about his dad, Boss adopting him and all? After all that, things were lookin up. His dad and a business partner own this building, and he told him he wanted to teach him about upkeep and stuff so when the time came, he could leave him something valuable."

Ryuji bites his lip before continuing. "Come to find out, Akira's mom had finally had enough; filed for divorce, found another man... some rich guy from overseas. They left, and he was bitter about that. Figured he'd hurt her as much as he could.... So he..." Ryuji hesitates.

"...threw himself in front of a train." Akira seems to appear out of nowhere. "And tried to take me with him."

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Akechi notes as he takes in Akira’s appearance. He’s leaning all his weight on the wall, his eyes are drowsy and distant, skin pale and visibly clammy.

“Can’t be alone right now,” he says simply.

"The limp..." Yusuke pales.

"And..." Akira lightly scratches at his left shoulder and pulls at each finger on the same hand as if pulling off a glove. Ryuji and Akechi look away, and Yusuke looks on in terror as the skin appears to slide away, revealing the highly detailed bionic arm.

Yusuke rises and approaches slowly, taking the prosthetic hand in his. "You’d said you were hit, but it never occurred to me that....” he trails off, studying the arm. “When did this happen?”

“Three years ago today.”

The silence that follows is burdensome, each of them internally contending with this knowledge, reliving the moments they first learned what happened and trying to imagine just what kind of distortion a man who could do something like this could have had. They’re all spared from any further contemplation by the sound of Akira’s stomach growling.

“Have you not eaten?” Akechi turns to him.

“That’s what I was coming to do when I fell,” he braces himself on the wall.

“Akechi, help me make soup,” Ryuji turns for the kitchen.

“I’ll admit I’m not much of a cook,” Akechi follows hesitantly.

“Come. Let us return you to your bed,” Yusuke takes him by the arm. “I won’t leave,” he cuts off Akira’s protests before they can even start and helps him down the hall.

They sit in silence once Akira is tucked in and as comfortable as he can be with all that’s going on. Yusuke is sat at the end of the bed, glancing idly around the room. Akira can sense something’s wrong and musters the energy to speak up.

“Is there something you wanna know?” His voice, as weak as it is, seems to startle Yusuke out of his musings as he finally looks at him.

Yusuke watches him for a time, his expression hard to read. “Nothing that cannot wait until you are well again,” he settles on before looking down at the sketchbook in his lap. Akira hadn’t realized he was holding it this whole time, but he’s not surprised either.

The silence stretches on, broken only by the sounds of Ryuji and Akechi cooking or arguing or whatever they’re actually doing in there. The pain has dulled, and Akira feels a bit more lucid. And with that clarity comes shame for his behavior earlier. He clears his throat, getting Yusuke’s attention.

“Um... you... you don’t have to stay. I think I’ll be okay now.”

“Would you like for me to leave?”

“N-no. I just meant you don’t have to sit and be bored i-is all.”

“Nonsense. I am not inconvenienced in the slightest. That aside, I said I wouldn’t leave, and unless you request otherwise, I intend to stand by that.”

A small, involuntary smile comes to rest on Akira’s lips right before their attention is drawn to the voices in the hall.

“Lower your voice. What if he’s asleep?”

“He’s gotta eat, doesn’t he? It’s best when it’s warm.” Yusuke goes to open the door for the two coming down the hall, food and medicine in hand. “See? He’s awake,” Ryuji nudges Akechi in the arm when they see him.

Yusuke helps him sit up and steps back so Ryuji can set the tray on his lap. Akechi shakes a pill bottle before setting it on the tray. Akira frowns; he’ll need to find a different hiding spot. As if he can read his mind, Akechi looks him in the eye. “Do not suffer on my account. I don’t enjoy being indebted, you know.”

Holding his eye contact, Akira uncaps the bottle and takes his first dose in nearly a week. Only then does Akechi turn away. “Skull, I noticed a decided lack of sweets in what you brought. Come with me to the store.” Ryuji makes a face, silently mimicking him but following him out all the same.

Yusuke flips through his sketchbook as Akira eats, the relative silence not as heavy while they’re both occupied. Soon, he’s finished and contemplates trying to take the tray back on his own instead of telling Yusuke. But the other man notices and takes it upon himself to return the dishes to the kitchen. Still uncomfortable with being nursed so, Akira sinks back into the pillows. He meets Yusuke’s eyes as he stands in the doorway, head tilted in thought.

“Akira, would you be opposed to me drawing you as you are?”

As he is; without the “skin” on his left arm.... “Go ahead,” he says quietly.

Yusuke stands at the foot of the bed and works over his sketchbook, his dark eyes distant as they dart between model and sketch. After some time, his drawing hand seems to falter, and he looks up at Akira with tears streaming down his face.

“Yusuke,” Akira pushes himself into a sitting position, alarmed. Aside from tears of joy, it’s rare to see him cry. Yusuke drops his sketchbook and pencil on the floor and moves to wrap his arms around Akira. Akira is stunned at first but slowly returns the hug.

“Forgive me. I just... I cannot bear the thought that you were nearly ripped from the world, never to know that-“ his voice breaks, his words dissolve into unintelligible sobs into Akira’s shoulder.

Akira desperately wants to know what the end of that thought was. But as the artist continues to weep in his arms, he decides to save it for another time.


	17. Hurts

Akechi is first to notice the difference. Akira’s always a bit different when Yusuke’s around: happier, less jaded. It doesn’t take an investigation to conclude that he feels something different for the artist than he feels for the rest of them. But these past couple of days have just been too obvious. For one thing, instead of coming over to visit, Yusuke has only gone home to change clothes each morning. Akechi decides to take a subtle approach to figuring out what that’s about.

“Kitagawa-kun, are you sleeping with Kurusu?” He eyes him over his mug as he takes a sip of the coffee. Akira chokes on his breakfast, nearly swallowing the spoon in the process.

Yusuke calmly pats his back until he doesn’t sound so much like he’s dying. He then takes another bite of his own food, eyeing Akechi casually as he chews. “Yes.”

“Oh?” It’s Akechi’s turn to be surprised at just how easily he answered.

“As you know, he has required a bit more assistance as of late, and I am glad to provide it. Why do you ask?” Akira wants to clarify just what kind of assistance Yusuke is so glad to provide, but he stays quiet, still recovering from a minute ago but also curious about what Akechi is getting at.

“Oh no reason really. I’ve simply noticed you’ve been spending even more time here than at home these past two days.”

“For efficiency’s sake, I stay with him at all times,” Yusuke nods, either unaware of any potential ulterior motive or just not giving a damn. Either way, Akira feels some strange pride at the fact that he’s unfazed.

Akechi glances between the two, a vague smirk on his lips as he finally looks away. Akira furrows his brow, wondering just what he thinks he knows. “Well, I’d like to request you put a sign on the door.”

“A sign?”

“Perhaps ‘the doctor is in.’ Something to let me know when to ignore any... outbursts,” he eyes Akira over his mug as he takes another sip. Akira scowls and gives him the finger, his gesture undermined by the blush softening his cheeks. Akechi grins triumphantly.

“That would sound a bit pretentious, but I could manage a sign,” Yusuke says more to himself than anyone.

“It’s not like that,” Akira mutters to Akechi as he passes him, dropping his plate in the sink before heading down the hall to shower.

He sticks his hand under the water to check the temp and gives a grim laugh when he realizes which hand he used. As well as Futaba and the others designed and programmed it, there are still limits to the prosthetic’s functionality. As he watches the still-cold water flow over the shiny black and red brushed metal, his mind begins to wander, coming to rest on the very thing Akechi is misunderstanding.

•2 Days Prior•

Akira slowly blinked awake. There was plenty of sunlight creeping around the edges and through the cracks of the haphazardly drawn blackout curtains, birds were chirping just at the edge of his attention, nothing hurt yet. It had been a long time since he last woke up feeling so good. Maybe he’d died? He was lifting his hand to check his heart and see if it was still actively beating, but he couldn’t move his arm.

He looked down to see what weight was hindering him. The breath was knocked out of him at the sight of none other than Yusuke lying next to him, apparently in a deep sleep with both arms wrapped around Akira’s own arm. On one hand, he was then certain of his pulse, what with the way his heartbeat got thrown off track before settling on something of a brisk jog—just short of a full race—yet exasperated by the hole in his memory about the prior evening. Yusuke was drawing him, and then he hugged him, and then...?

His face reddened as he finally swallowed as much of his nerves as he could and looked at the other man. His hair was neatly pulled into a loose bun at the back of his head, his face was composed and peaceful, and he was shirtless. Akira cursed himself for the way his heart reacted to that last fact. It gets warm in the middle of the night, he himself sleeps the same way. Usually alone, but this still isn’t that unusual, right? Except Yusuke has nipples, and both of them were dangerously close to his arm.

The real question, though, was were they wearing anything at all? He went lightheaded at the thought. With another curse, he took a deep breath and steeled himself before daring to look further. The briefest peek under the blanket confirmed there was a waistband on each of them. Good. He let himself be convinced that was proof nothing happened.

Akira was snapped out of any further panic by Yusuke stirring next to him. He looked back up and watched the man blink languidly awake, his sleepy, half lidded eyes landing on Akira and making Swiss cheese of his insides.

“Good morning,” Yusuke greeted him, and Akira felt it in the pit of his stomach. Definitely different from running into each other at the station before class like they used to.

“Good morning,” Akira managed in a quiet, surprisingly steady voice. “D-did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Yusuke moved to stretch, seeming far more at ease than Akira himself was. “And you? Would you like some help getting up?”

Akira’s full body flashed cold for half a second before he realized what Yusuke actually meant. In his defense, anything could sound like an invitation in a voice so deep and sleep-laden.

“Think I’m fine for now.”

Yusuke nodded and shut his eyes once more, still holding on to the bare prosthetic.

That first morning took him completely by surprise, the next one wasn’t altogether different, though things certainly didn’t start off the same. The first morning, he awoke from peaceful sleep to a peaceful—albeit tense—morning. The next morning, though, brought a montage of painful memories in the form of nightmares, all disparate snapshots of various times in his life when it all just hurt.

First came the view from “the box of shame,” a cardboard box smaller than the one they’d sent his stuff to Leblanc in. Between the ages of four and twelve, this is where his punishment took place, the cramped, dark space throwing his young mind into overdrive with all sorts of scary possibilities and becoming increasingly painful to endure with each year of growing until finally, he could take no more.

Instead of staying put like he always had, he pushed his way out, limbs already stiff and painful to move. That marked his coming of age, his graduation from a child to be locked away to a man to be fought, in his father’s mind. The man had a terrible temper for as long as Akira could remember, but there was only the fear of being hit before he left the box that first and last time.

Still aching from the box, he “woke up” feeling the sensation of running into a flash of light and a heavy nudge on his back, the doctors’ grim faces, his friends’ tears, the guilt for all the time and money and effort they all put into him while he still only wished to have his own limbs back.

Next was the arrest for Shido’s shameful behavior, the way his mother cried and his father yelled, how lonely and scary it was in such a different place and with a caregiver looking for anything at all to throw him away. “They got rid of you for being a pain in the ass,” he’d said.

After that was the second arrest and the excessive violence that came with it. Going up against Akechi and “losing,” only in the nightmare, he actually did. He imagined that sick smile Akechi sometimes lets slip when he’s being a sadistic little bastard. He “heard” the gun cock and in a flash felt a sharp pain not in his head, but in his chest. _For being a pain in the ass..._

The shot led finally to him going to meet with his friends and learning on the spot that Yusuke had left. He saw him walking away from him, not responding in the slightest as he called for him, begging him to come back. _They got rid of you for being a pain in the ass._

“Akira?” He slowly blinked awake to find Yusuke leaning over him and cupping his face, that long curtain of hair blocking out everything but Yusuke’s concerned expression. “What’s wrong?”

He could feel the tears still flowing from his eyes as he looked up at the man, the very same from the last thing of the nightmare he remembered. He couldn’t blame him, though, and instead just croaked out “hurts.”

“Where? How would you describe your pain?” Yusuke cycled through various adjectives, not thinking it could be purely emotional. Akira shook his head to each. “Surely there is something I can do?” Yusuke was almost pleading as he brushed wild locks out of Akira’s eyes.

Akira could sense the slightest hint of movement in the direction of the door, but it was furthest from his awareness what with the concentrated agony and shock of the memories and the windstorm of emotions swirling around, intensifying with each brush of Yusuke’s fingers.

“Just some help standing, please,” Akira whispered.

•

He shakes the thoughts away as he washes the last bit of shampoo from his hair. It’s hard to say which one memory hurt the most, but it is the most recent one that sticks at the forefront of his mind even now. But Yusuke said he won’t leave, and if this week is anything to go by, he means it. Akira takes a deep breath, turning off the water and letting go of the day before.

He gets dressed with relative ease and returns to the front room where he finds Akechi and Yusuke in what seems to be a cordial conversation.

“Honestly, I’ve always been curious about it, but by the time I could decide to go on my own, there was no time, and I was no longer interested. The woman to whom I was previously engaged talked about it often.”

“Yes. It is the kind of place where you would like to have companions. Though I can hardly speak on the true experience. We went on an evening it was closed to the public.”

Akira stands and listens for a while. It’s not until that one piece in his arm clicks that they even realize he’s there, a fact he’s a bit proud of; he hasn’t completely lost his phantom moves.

“Ah, there you are,” Yusuke smiles fondly at him. Akira’s stomach does a flip.

“We thought you might’ve drowned,” Akechi smiles at him, too, a bit too broadly for what he just said. Akira glances at him with dead eyes.

“We’ve been discussing good places to spend leisure time. Would you be interested in going out today?”

“Sure,” Akira rests his hands in his pockets. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Anywhere you’d like,” Akira can’t help but smirk at how Yusuke brightens every time he talks to him.

“You were talking about Destinyland?” he affects nonchalance.

“Yes. He has never been,” Yusuke looks at Akechi.

Akira looks at him, too. “Did you wanna go?”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Akechi uses his trying-to-be-sympathetic voice.

“I mean not today obviously, but....”

“We could make a day of it, perhaps invite the others?” Yusuke suggests tentatively.

“Ask Haru first,” he and Yusuke share a look.

“Yes. That would be best,” Yusuke pulls out his phone, stepping out to dial Haru.

“What’s that about?”

Akira stares at the floor where he taps the tip of his toe. “That’s where we were when her father held his press conference.”

He doesn’t need to look at Akechi to know he understands exactly what he means. They linger in the heavy silence for an uncomfortable length of time and barely even move until Yusuke steps back inside.

“Yes, I would quite enjoy that. Where shall I meet you? Wonderful. See you then.” He closes the door. “Yes. I will be sure to tell him.”

They look at him expectantly as he pockets his phone. “She looks forward to it and should have the time after this coming week, if it works for everyone else.”

“You know, it would probably be easiest to take the train,” Akechi eyes Akira carefully. Akira’s face hardens, but he gives a curt nod.

Suddenly, there’s a rhythmic knock just seconds before the door hits Yusuke, Ryuji’s excited face in the doorway.

“Guys night?”


	18. We’re Bros

Yusuke steps out from behind the door, frowning a bit and rubbing his arm as Ryuji steps in, dropping a small duffel bag on the floor.

“Ryuji, we are grown men,” Akechi gives him an exasperated look.

“That’s why I said _guys_ not _boys_ ,” Ryuji replies as if it’s the most obvious thing.

Akechi sighs. “Is this another of your traditions?”

Ryuji shrugs. “Just a way to have some fun from time to time.”

“What does a guys night normally entail?” Yusuke sounds intrigued.

“Food, games, movies, drinks,” Akira and Ryuji throw out responses.

“Just hanging out,” Ryuji continues. “Think summer break but sleeping over instead of leaving late.”

“So you’re staying the night?” Akechi sounds less than enthused.

“May I stay, too?” Yusuke looks between them hopefully with his fingers woven together in front of him.

“You’re a guy, aren’t you?”

“And since when do you ask permission to intrude here?” Akechi quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, Yusuke. You can stay,” Akira smirks gently at him. “We were talking about getting out today, too, though.”

“Way ahead of you!” Ryuji holds up a coupon.

•

“You guys ever been bowling before?” Ryuji asks as they take their seats at the lane.

“Only once a long time ago,” Akechi looks a bit disgusted at the shoes. Yusuke simply shakes his head no.

“Big surprise, but this guy’s pretty good at it,” Ryuji nudges Akira. Akira shakes his head, smirking a bit as he enters their names. 

“Don’t put me last!” Akechi looks at the screen. Akira backs out and switches the names around. “Well don’t put me first either!”

Akira holds eye contact as he hits the enter button. “Whoops.” Akechi sighs, pulling on his gloves before taking his turn, getting a spare.

Ryuji takes his turn, also bowling a spare and rolling his shoulder as he returns to his seat. “Just getting warmed up.”

It’s Yusuke’s turn, and he looks to Akira. “I have never done this before. Will you teach me?”

“Sure,” Akira rises with a deceptive calmness. “First, pick a ball that’s easy for you to swing.” Yusuke mimics Akira’s motions in trying out the different weights. “That one? Alright, now,” they walk to the lane. “Basically, you just wanna knock all the pins down, and you get two tries to do it. You saw Akechi and Ryuji right? Give it a try.”

Yusuke nods and, after a brief glance down the lane, rolls the ball. “They are all gone,” he turns to a beaming Akira.

“That’s because you got a strike! Way to go!”

“Beginner’s luck!” Ryuji teases from his seat.

“My turn I guess,” Akira walks up to the lane, waits for the bowler in the next lane to take their turn, and rolls the ball. He turns back to the others before the ball strikes.

“Ugh, you ass,” Ryuji laughs and gives him a high five as all the pins fall just as Akira reaches his seat.

“I won’t lose,” Akechi stands to take his turn. They go through the frames—strikes, spares, a gutter ball here and there.

On the last frame, Yusuke takes his turn and gets a 7-10 split. Everyone hums in dissatisfaction while Yusuke stands waiting on his ball, arms crossed and finger crooked under his nose in deep contemplation. “Akira, a plan of attack, please.”

“This split is notoriously difficult,” Akira stands next to him. The others see him pointing back and forth between the pins, explaining with an intensity not unlike when they’d discuss Mementos requests. Yusuke nods and picks up the ball. He lines himself up at the lane and turns back to Akira, saying something they can’t hear. Akechi and Ryuji both snicker as they watch an old tv cliche play out in front of them.

Yusuke stands still, only moving when Akira repositions him. Akira steps behind him, mimicking the position—very much in Yusuke’s personal space—before apparently giving him the go-ahead to roll. They high five as the last pin falls, and Akira returns to his seat as Yusuke bowls his last frame.

He comes back to the others’ teasing. “Oh Akira, please! Teach me, too!” Ryuji says in a high pitched voice, making kissy noises afterward.

“Skull, we appear to be third wheels this evening,” Akechi smiles smugly as he starts another game on the machine. “A real game, now that everyone has the hang of it. Winner picks dinner.”

•

Ryuji, having won by two points, picks Ore no Boko to absolutely no one’s astonishment. They put on some American drama and thoroughly enjoy taking it apart while they wait on the food to arrive. It’s reduced to background noise the moment the doorbell rings.

As they stuff their faces, there’s a lull in conversation during which Yusuke spies something behind the tv.

“What is that?”

Ryuji follows his line of sight, carrying his bowl with him. “Mmf!” He finishes chewing. “You have a Wii?”

Akira nods, slurping up chow mein. “Futaba said something about motor skills or something.” Ryuji and Yusuke peruse the shelf of games.

“We should do this one,” Yusuke pulls a case out. Akechi and Akira watch in amused silence as Ryuji teaches Yusuke how to play Just Dance.

“Akechi, pick a song.” Two songs later, Ryuji passes him the Wii remote and finishes off his takeout. Akechi clicks through—listening to samples of some, outright skipping others—before landing on an apparent favorite.

“Of course,” Akira smirks as he gets his own remote connected. As he battles Akechi for the high score to “Oh No!,” Akira can feel eyes on him, and during one of the many times they have to turn around, he spies the warm smile on Yusuke’s lips. It makes him nervous as hell and yet seems to motivate him further. Still, even though he ends up winning by a literal handful of points, Akechi’s high score is still intact.

Once everyone is done eating, they put on pieces from various costumes Akira and Akechi have had to wear for work and make it through a few more songs—this last one “Promiscuous,” at Akira’s choosing—before there’s a knock at the door.

“Have we disturbed the neighbors?”

“Shouldn’t have. To the right of us should be at work, underneath out of town, and left is empty,” Akechi answers as Akira goes to the door.

They’re all surprised to see Ann crying in the doorway, and she’s just as surprised to see them all in their crazy costumes.

“What’s wrong?” Akira gently takes her by the shoulders, searching her face.

“I didn’t want to bother Shiho, and I just kind of....” she wipes the tears from her face. Yusuke turns on the lights as Akechi and Ryuji clear space for her to sit.

“What happened with your date?” Ryuji asks.

“I’m sure you can guess,” she angrily wipes a tear away. “Absolute creep. But I guess I should’ve expected it for someone I met on a shoot.” Akechi brings her a tissue as she goes through the entire day, sparing no detail, getting more aggravated as she goes.

“That piece of shit!” Akechi yanks his sweatband off.

“I’ll kill him,” Ryuji has been pacing the whole time.

“I’ll dispose of the evidence,” Yusuke nods as Akira pulls his dagger from under the couch cushion.

Ann laughs a little, though they look completely serious. “Thanks guys. But he’s not worth it,” she wipes her face once more. “Sorry for interrupting... whatever this is.”

“Pay us no mind,” Yusuke shakes his head, the star shaped glasses catching the light with his movement. “What do you wish to do?” 

“Right now? Sleep. Just want today to be over. Tomorrow, I’m planning to talk to Niijima-San and see what kind of legal options I have.”

“Well then, we will bookmark that murder plot,” Akechi smiles his fake smile.

Akira stands and starts walking down the hall, pulling pillows and blankets out of the hall closet as he goes. “Take my bed.”

He changes out the bedding, balling up the used sheets for laundry and taking his blanket with him. “You need anything?”

“I’m okay,” Ann shakes her head as she sits on the edge of the bed. “Thank you.”

He gives a gentle smile before closing the door and heading back to the others. He returns to find the takeout on the coffee table replaced by packs and bottles of alcohol.

“I will observe from here,” Yusuke folds his hands on his lap.

“Ah c’mon. It’s more fun when everyone plays,” Ryuji counts out cards.

“I do not wish to drink.”

“We got soda,” Ryuji offers him a bottle. They all take up their cards and go through the dance of figuring out who’s first.

“Who’s oldest?” Ryuji looks around, and Akira nods to Akechi.

“Hm. You never seemed much like a senpai,” Yusuke notes, arranging his cards.

“I will pretend you didn’t say that,” Akechi draws the first black card. “Sometimes I just look at the kids and I think...” he reads before setting it in the middle. After a moment, the other three place their cards in a pile. Akechi looks through them, his expression unreadable. “I genuinely hate you all,” he laughs as he throws down a card. Akira picks up the black card.

“The inevitable heat death of the universe?!” Ryuji yells. “How can you pass up Daddy Issues?!”

“I thought ‘a defective condom’ was appropriate,” Yusuke draws another card.

Ann comes back down the hall and takes a seat at the circle, reaching for a bottle of vodka as she does.

“Did we wake you?” Akechi asks.

“No. Too mad to sleep,” she turns the bottle up.

“Hey, you gonna chip in for that?” Ryuji looks incredulous as she continues to sip.

She sets the bottle down next to her and points to her jacket. Yusuke passes it to her, and she pulls out a bill that she tosses into the center of the circle.

“This is too much,” Ryuji hands the bill back.

“I don’t have change. Just keep it.”

“You joining the game?” Akira asks.

“What’re we playing?”

Akechi holds up the box. “The horrible card game.”

“Mm maybe.”

•

It’s after midnight when they finish the last round, and Ann is already curled up on the floor, asleep.

“I suppose we, too, should call it a night,” Akechi starts collecting cards. Ann swats Ryuji away as he tries to wake her until he gives up and opts to carry her to bed instead.

They leave Akira’s bed to Ann and all crash in the living room, straightening up before setting out the futon.

“Well then, goodnight,” Akechi is turning for his room.

“Where are you going?” Ryuji asks as they all turn to him.

“To bed.”

“Aren’t you gonna stay with us?”

“And why would I do that?”

“It’s guys’ night, and we’re bros.” Akechi stares at him for a long while, surprised. It’s probably just the alcohol talking. “Whatever. Suit yourself,” Ryuji turns back to unfolding his blanket, and Akechi slips down the hall to his room. Akira’s setting up his pillow on the futon when Ryuji eyes him weirdly. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to go to sleep?”

“Take the couch. We’ll have to kill you to get you up if you don’t.” Akira doesn’t argue this and simply moves his pillow and blanket to the sofa. They hear a door close before Akechi reappears with his own blanket and pillow, quietly setting himself up on the futon.

“Everyone set?” Akira waits for confirmation before flipping the light switch over the couch, a small smile on his face as he drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little different from other chapters; hopefully as fun to read as it was to write.


	19. I’m Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An angsty one

A few uneventful days pass, but before Ryuji left, they’d all decided on a day to try to reintroduce Akira to the train. It was clear he was nervous as they discussed it, but even he didn’t know just how unsettled he was. He’d been dreading it since the moment he agreed, but he was thankful for the time he had to come to terms with it.

The morning comes, and without fail, he wakes up in Yusuke’s arms. “Are you used to holding a pillow when you sleep?” he asks when the other man yawns.

“Hm? You mean because I am holding you? Does it make you uncomfortable?” Yusuke asks, still holding on to him.

“It’s fine... just curious.”

“The first time I stayed, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.” Akira blushes at how casually he can say these things. “The very next night, I failed to hold you, and you woke up in pain.” Akira sits up to look at him, leaning on his elbow. “I have entire years in which I should have been here for you to atone for.”

“No, Yusuke. Don’t... don’t do that. This”—he wiggles his fingers—“is not your fault, it has nothing to do with you. I mean who knows, if you were still here, maybe I-“ _wouldn’t be_ isn’t exactly how he wants to finish this sentence. “Don’t blame yourself. The fault lies with him and him alone. You don’t owe me anything.”

“On the contrary, I owe you everything,” Yusuke turns to him with a serious look. “It is no exaggeration to say I would not be here if not for you and the others. I wouldn’t,” the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice scare Akira. “And even without such a debt, I want.... You deserve the heavens themselves, but I have nothing to give, so I offer all of me, whatever that is worth to you.”

“The heavens themselves...” Akira repeats at a whisper, blinking away the tears suddenly stinging his eyes. He holds Yusuke’s gaze, both with vulnerable expressions as the distance between them seems to be getting smaller with each breath.

“I’m ordering breakfast!” comes a knock at the door, startling them both back to the world. “Come place your orders,” Akechi turns back down the hall, unaware he’s interrupted anything more than sleep.

They lie there panting, hearts still racing. Somewhere within all that, Yusuke had pulled Akira close again. They continue to lie there panting, hearts racing, Akira on top of Yusuke, noses centimeters apart. What were they about to do?

“We should go eat... before the food is cold,” Yusuke nearly whispers. All Akira can do is nod, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes there’s no food to be cold yet.

It’s still another lifetime before either moves.

•

The three of them eat their breakfast in relative silence, a tension beginning to creep in. Not long after everyone is dressed for the day, Yusuke answers the door and quietly greets Ryuji as they both look to the man of the hour, the perfect picture of anxiety. His eyes are out of focus, leg won’t stay still, and he’s chewing his gum with dangerous intensity. The three share a look of concern before Ryuji shakes his head.

With his normal energetic tone, he calls out to him. “Hey! Ready for that premium sushi?” He smiles at Akira who gives a curt nod and continues his fidgeting. “Then let’s get going!” They all stand and wait for him to do the same.

They may as well be escorting him to his grave with his countenance on the walk to the station. They attempt small talk that he doesn’t seem to hear and are thankful for the station’s relative emptiness at this particular time. They reach the bottom of the stairs, and the change is instant.

Akira’s head pops up as if he’s just realizing where they are. The others fall silent and stop to watch him as his breathing gets more and more shallow. Slowly, carefully, they herd him to the platform. He’s clearly restless as he tries to take deep breaths through his nose. That appears to be the worst of it until they hear the low rumble of an approaching train.

The light looms in the bend of the tunnel, and Akira crouches down into a ball, covering his ears and hyperventilating. Yusuke is reaching to rest a hand on Akira’s trembling shoulder when Akira springs to his feet ready to flee.

Akechi tries to stop him, but Ryuji calls, “Watch the left!” A timely warning as Akira flails, pushing his way free as he takes off. They take off just behind him, reluctant to reach for him, fearing that would only make it worse.

Fortunately, he doesn’t run far. They catch up to him sitting in a small alcove near an out of service pay phone, covering his face with shaking hands. Everyone is still unsure of what to do and approach slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Akira gasps out repeatedly. Ryuji and Yusuke immediately crouch and try to console him. Be it thanks to their constant encouragement or simply the time to breathe, Akira finally looks up with tired, sad eyes and allows himself to be pulled up and led back home where he goes straight to bed. The other three men agree it will take more time, and that they’ll leave the decision on when or if they ever try again to Akira himself.

•

Akechi wakes to a scream and clambering in the hall. He jumps out of bed and throws the door open to see Yusuke knelt on the floor.

“Stop him!” He sounds winded as he struggles to his feet.

Akechi hurries down the hall, catching Akira by the shoulder. He’s clearly out of it, screaming and panting and fighting like a caged animal. Akechi struggles hard to control him, and they end up falling forward.

“Akira, you have to calm down,” Akechi speaks as calmly as he can while having to yell over Akira’s unintelligible protests.

“Knife....” Akira claws at the floor in an attempt to break free from the weight holding him back.

“No,” Yusuke joins the fight to restrain him.

“Just need my knife.... please!”

“No, Akira. You need to calm down.”

When it’s clear he can’t get away and that the two won’t release him, he gives up, crying into the floorboards instead. “I-I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over.

Yusuke shushes him and holds him close, both of them trembling there on the floor. It’s as Yusuke sits hunched over Akira’s head that Akechi notices the bruise on Yusuke’s chest. With a frown, he adjusts his grip on Akira’s arm, gentle but ready to restrain again if need be. They sit in a heavy silence until it’s clear he’s fallen back asleep.

Akechi looks at Yusuke solemnly. “What happened?”

“A nightmare, it seems,” Yusuke continues running his fingers through the sleeping man’s hair.

“He hit you.”

“Not intentionally. You saw yourself just how far away he was just now.”

Akechi watches Yusuke for a moment longer and finally releases Akira’s arm as he goes to stand. “Tea?” He asks as he walks by.

“Yes, thank you.” Yusuke moves slowly, carefully so as to not wake Akira as he gathers him up and carries him back to bed. He gets him tucked in and is just about to leave for the kitchen when he’s startled by a strong grip on his wrist. He turns to see Akira’s bloodshot eyes peering at him, immense sadness spilling from them.

“Yusuke...” his voice is equally as woeful, and his eyes widen as he catches sight of the bruise on Yusuke’s chest. He’s struggling to even find the words to apologize, let alone form them to speak. Yusuke rests a finger over Akira’s lips, halting his endless apologies before they can begin.

“Rest,” Yusuke pats the hand still gripping his arm, his voice and expression gentle.

Akira wants to protest, but it has been an exhausting day and he doesn’t want to inconvenience Yusuke any further. After one last moment of hesitation, he releases his arm. He plans to close his eyes just until Yusuke leaves. But he stays for a long while, at least long enough for Akira’s feigned sleep to become real.

•

They all end up starting the day around lunchtime, and after asking multiple times if Akira was alright, Yusuke left for his lunch date with Haru.

Akechi is going about his day like normal when he spots Akira sitting on the couch. He continues into the kitchen, and that’s when the decided absence of aroma hits him. “You didn’t make coffee?” he asks, glancing at the man clutching a pillow and staring off into space.

“Oh... sorry,” Akira replies lifelessly. Akechi sighs and rests a hand on his hip.

“I’m going out for food today. Will you join me or is your sulking an all day affair?”

Akira squeezes the pillow tighter, sinking his face into the top of it. Akechi softens as he approaches the now crying man.

“There’s no need to cry. I was going to take your opinion into consideration when I chose the restaurant this time,” Akechi attempts a joke as he sits next to him.

“I hit him,” comes the barely audible response through the pillow.

“On purpose?”

“No!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Akira looks up almost incredulously. “I hit him.”

“By accident?”

“Yes!”

“He knows that. It’s an unfortunate reaction, but no one blames you except you. Now please, stop ruining the decor and get dressed. I’m starving.” Akechi leaves for his room.

After a moment, Akira recomposes himself. He still feels terrible about bruising Yusuke and about yesterday as a whole, but with a few more deep breaths, he’s ready to at least begin to move past it. He’ll apologize properly tonight.


	20. It Will Heal

Akira and Akechi sit down for an uneventful lunch at a comfortable little place within walking distance. They take a guess at what Yusuke may want and add a few things to-go to their order before making the walk back home. They’re barely in the house when Akira gets a text from Ryuji. With little thought, he gets changed and leaves to meet him at the gym.

•

Akira is relieved to be greeted with Ryuji’s usual levity. For all the flack he gets for being insensitive, he certainly does a good job at looking out for everyone in his own way. He never pushes him to talk or think about what’s bothering him but is always willing to listen when he’s ready.

They chat idly as they warm up before beginning the usual sparring. Akira appreciates the fact that Ryuji never saw him as anything more or less than who he is. He’s careful not to over-exert him but never holds back when it comes to this stuff, and thanks in part to that, Akira’s dexterity and general control of his limbs have been gradually improving.

Improving certainly, but still not quite where he’d like them to be. After being floored for the third time, Akira lies there catching his breath as Ryuji passes him a water bottle and takes a seat next to him. They rest here for a while before Akira breaks the relative silence.

“I... I hit Yusuke.”

“Holy shit,” Ryuji lifts his eyebrows. “Like on purpose? What happened?”

“Just out of it,” Akira mumbles, the shame beginning to weigh on him once more.

“He’s alright, yeah?” Ryuji shrugs at Akira’s nod. “I’ll get you more boxing gloves so you can wear one everywhere.”

Akira gives a short laugh. “I’d look like a crab.”

“Then he’ll really be obsessed with you,” Ryuji laughs and offers a hand to pull Akira up. “Now that you’re actually focused, maybe you’ll finally knock me down,” he teases as they both suit up once more.

•

That evening, Akira sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for Yusuke to finish his shower so they can talk. He fidgets the entire time, thinking of a million ways to start the conversation and further stressing himself out with every potential worst case scenario. He’s bracing himself for the best worst case in which Yusuke kicks his ass when the man himself comes into the room, his hair wrapped in a towel. His eyes brighten when they land on Akira.

The butterflies in Akira’s stomach eat away everything that was previously on his mind. “How was lunch?”

“It was lovely. We sat down at a quaint little bistro. I’d love to take you sometime. The food was most delicious, and the decor was charming though not to my personal taste. I brought some of my favorites home for you to try. I made sure to hide yours from Akechi,” Yusuke says, looking quite pleased with himself. Akira looks down, a sad smile on his face. “Something is troubling you,” Yusuke notes.

Akira grasps in vain for even one of the eloquent, carefully picked words he’d been ruminating on all day before finally settling on, “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Last night?” Yusuke looks perplexed as he runs the towel down his hair.

“W-when I....” Akira gestures vaguely, and to his relief, Yusuke seems to understand.

“No one was hurt.”

“You were,” he looks him firmly in the eye. “You’re bruised.”

“But not broken,” Yusuke kisses his forehead. “It will heal. For now, come. You simply must try these desserts.” Yusuke’s fingers gently graze Akira’s hand, and—by some force beyond his control—Akira follows behind him, barely hearing what he’s saying, still stunned from the kiss he can still feel warming his forehead.

Akira sits at the table enjoying the cute little box of sweets and quietly listening to Yusuke’s idle musings over the sketch he started earlier in the day.

He watches him work, his hands as deft, movements as fluid and effortless as ever. As Yusuke casually discusses colors, Akira catches a glance of the page and looks back to his face, concentrated yet at peace, and he suddenly gets the strong urge to hold him.

As if reading the other man’s mind, Yusuke looks up from the page. “Shall we get some rest?”

As they clean up and make their way down the hall, Akira can feel the usual post-workout aches creeping in. Yusuke seems keenly aware of his discomfort.

“Are you in pain?”

“Just a bit achey from the gym.”

“Would you like a massage?” Yusuke offers nonchalantly as he pulls back the covers.

Akira is more caught off guard than he should be at this point and only stands blushing and spluttering for a moment. “No. I mean you don’t have to do that, you already do so much, I don’t want to be a bother or anything,” he finally stops rambling.

“Nonsense,” Yusuke waves him off and gestures to the bed. “Where does it hurt?”

In that particular moment, the answer would be nowhere since his mind has gone blank and numbness overtakes him. But he finds himself lying back and gesturing to his left leg. He’s too shocked to register anything until he picks up the sensation of Yusuke’s fingers kneading his thigh. All he can do is stare at the hands responsible for both the release and cause of tension in his lower half.

Would it feel like this if he did the other leg? If it were anyone else altogether? Lost in his thoughts, he accidentally lets a small simpering noise slip and can already feel the heat abandoning his blood to settle in his face when Yusuke meets his eye.

“My apologies. Does it hurt?” Not trusting his voice, Akira shakes his head no, though that’s not entirely true. “Would you like me to continue?” Face still red, eyebrows still knitted, Akira simply nods, biting his lower lip.

And continue he does. Yusuke calmly works the tension from Akira’s leg, but every other part of him is on edge. It’s not at all helpful that he’s over analyzing every detail of the man. The way the muscles in his arms and hands ripple beneath the skin with each movement; the way his bangs slip from the hair tie to frame his face; how serene and almost happy he looks to do it. Akira is already trying his best to hold it together with the image of his leg resting on Yusuke’s shoulder when the artist’s thumb dips and presses higher on his inner thigh.

He reflexively grabs his hand. Akira knows Yusuke is far less oblivious than he seems but is content to pretend the man can’t see his arousal as long as he doesn’t comment on it. But with his hands working so near such a sensitive spot, it’s impossible to ignore. They maintain eye contact for an endless moment.

“Did that help?” Yusuke finally asks as if nothing happened. Akira nods once more. “Good.” He gently puts Akira’s leg down as he stands, retying his hair before settling into what has become his side of the bed. With a small yawn, he wishes Akira goodnight and snuggles next to him, somehow holding him even closer.


	21. Something Like That

“I would say we were far too aggressive to start.” The next day, Akechi calls a meeting that Yusuke and Ryuji apparently knew about beforehand.

“Akira, you’ve been completely avoiding the subway for years now, correct?” Akira nods, casually holding a pillow. “We have to start much smaller.”

Akechi gestures to Yusuke who then sticks a page on the fridge. “Can you read this?”

Akira makes a show of squinting, fighting off the laugh welling in his chest. “Train.” The others share a look, and Akechi gives a nod, signaling for yusuke to flip the paper over to reveal a number of highly detailed drawings. “Trains,” Akira nods, amused but appreciative for what they’re trying to do.

“He’s ready for the next step,” Akechi seems to be crossing off a list. Akira instantly feels uneasy at his words. “We won’t take you back to the station immediately. As I said, we’re starting small.”

“What’s the next step?” Akira asks.

“We have to get you accustomed to the context of a station without necessarily being _in_ the station. But how should we go about that...?”

“Like the kiddie train at the mall?” Ryuji suggests.

“That...” Akechi pinches the bridge of his nose but opts to take the kinder approach. “Not quite what I had in mind.”

“So what like watching that one train show from the memes?”

“How would that make anyone _less_ afraid of trains?! That’s like-“ Akechi shuts his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And you, Kitagawa?”

“Perhaps a model? If I recall, you are good with your hands. It may be fun to create your own.”

“Oh like those old dudes who build whole cities? That sounds awesome!” Ryuji reaches for another snack. “But wait, where would you put it?”

“There’s an entire apartment that’s practically vacant,” Akechi gives Yusuke a look he either misreads or simply ignores.

“I have plenty of space for it.” Yusuke nods and turns back to Akira. “Would you be interested?”

Akira seems to consider for a moment before nodding, almost excited at the prospect of working with his hands again.

“Wonderful!” Yusuke claps once before standing. “Come, Joker! We have many selections to make.”

•

Two and a half weeks of intensive shopping and waiting for special-order items later, the four of them are sat in Yusuke’s front room working on the pieces for the model town, Yusuke finally satisfied with the arrangement of the still unpainted shops on the map.

Akira is in the zone, a serene expression on his face as he carves out little wooden representations of his friends while everyone else starts painting and pasting things.

“So Yusuke,” Ryuji starts after a while. “How was it over there?”

“It was fine,” Yusuke dips into the red paint again.

“That’s it? No crazy adventures or cool places? Any cute girls?”

Yusuke is quiet for a long while, and it seems like he isn’t going to answer. As he puts the finishing touches on the local tea shop, he fixes his eyes on some undetermined spot on the papier-mâché mountain. “I learned many things. Some related to my art of course, but more so about other people and their... sameness.”

Akira notices the way the look in his eyes hardens the rest of his face and hesitates to ask him to elaborate, but Yusuke finally blinking the expression away and pointing to another building signals the end of that conversation.

”Dude, that’s vague as shit.”

“Perhaps it’s not something he wishes to revisit, Sakamoto,” Akechi shoots a stern look at him.

“Alright. So where the hell have _you_ been all this time then, huh?” Ryuji throws back at him, a bit more forcefully than anyone expected. “How’d you escape?”

His look of surprise sliding into a cruel smirk, Akechi sits townie #4 down on a scrap of cardboard to dry. “For everything he had me do, you’d think he’d at least believe I was a good shot,” he laughs bitterly. “I was fully prepared to die behind that wall. And he missed. The mindless fucker missed.” He shakes his head and reaches for another tiny carved figure.

“Once I finally came to, I had to make up some excuse to leave the country immediately. I spent years in hiding, making myself useful to useless people again. It was exhausting. Disgusting. Would’ve been so simple... and he _missed_.”

Ryuji, fanning the most recently painted townsfolk, looks at him as if he’s just seeing him for the first time. “Dude-“

“Meet anyone special, Kitagawa?” Akechi blurts, slamming another, half-painted figure down to dry and refusing to acknowledge whatever words of sympathy Ryuji was about to offer.

“Special?” Yusuke asks, voice distant, eyes unblinking as he gives his second townie a face.

“Did you date anyone?”

Of all the questions Akechi could’ve asked, why the hell would he pick that one? Akira’s hands subconsciously freeze as they all await his answer. Yusuke adds just a bit more detail to the figure’s tiny yukata and sets it down with a hum. “Something like that.”

With the way everyone suddenly looks at Akira, it’s clear he wasn’t the only one who heard his heart shatter. He goes on with his carving, trying to pretend it doesn’t matter and focusing on the little block in his hand. He’s so intent on acting casual that he ends up whittling the wood down to almost nothing, missing the immensely guilty look on Yusuke’s face and carving out a small chunk of his thumb in the process.

There’s some yelling, probably at him, but he doesn’t notice until he feels Yusuke grab him, one hand snatching the knife out of his grip and the other holding a towel to his bloody thumb. No one speaks as a stray drop carves a thick crimson trail down his forearm.

“We should bandage this at once,” Yusuke tries to pull him up.

Akira can’t bear to meet his eyes, let alone be touched by him right now. “We should take a break to... eat or... something.” He suggests, pulling away from Yusuke who only nods as he lets him go, an odd look on his face.

Ryuji finds Akira pacing outside, hands trembling, face red, clearly agitated. “Akira-“

“Fine! I’m fine. Just... could really use a cigarette,” he gives a small, humorless laugh.

“Ya know, it’s not the end of the world, right? Sounds like it wasn’t a big deal or nothin, and honestly,” Ryuji says cautiously, “you guys... weren’t together.”

Akira freezes, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He stands trembling in silence for a while before shaking his head with a dry laugh. “Yeah. You’re right. I gotta go,” he turns toward his own apartment without meeting Ryuji’s eye.

Ryuji grabs his arm. “Ryuji, let me go.” The blond holds fast. “Let me go, Ryuji. I just wanna be alone.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t... what does it matter? You don’t have to watch me like a child. I’m not fragile.”

“No one says you are.” Akira is opening his mouth to protest when Ryuji pulls him into a hug.

“Ryuji, let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he continues to hold Akira in place.

“Ryuji!” His voice breaks as he pleads. Akira makes no attempt to escape but instead breaks down into his best friend’s shoulder. Ryuji is grateful for the lack of neighbors out and about today, for Akira’s sake.

Crying does seem to help a little. Akira takes a deep breath and wipes his face, trying to get a grip and be more reasonable. His eyes meet Ryuji’s and he nods once.

Ryuji walks him back into Yusuke’s apartment. “Check this guy out!” He gives Akira a side hug. “Some guy walked by with a lit cigarette, and he didn’t even flinch!” Akira looks at him, knowing just how blatant a lie that was.

“That is most wonderful news! Well done, leader,” Yusuke pipes up, though still a bit timid. “Shall we celebrate?”

“I’m always down to eat,” Ryuji agrees.

“There’s a nice little place nearby,” Akechi offers.

“I need more than cake, man.”

“They have more than dessert,” Akechi says, only mildly offended. If he didn’t feel so bad, Akira almost would’ve laughed at the way his friends respond to every little thing like a successful heist.

Physically, it doesn’t feel good; he still very much would enjoy that cigarette. But there is a pride to not giving in to temptation, especially from his own mind. Of course, part of the reason it was even possible is that he doesn’t even have a pack to smoke, but that’s beside the point.

They’re enjoying their treats—all of which ended up being sweets—when a hush falls over the table. Akechi glances between Akira and Yusuke, the two sitting next to each other but clearly avoiding eye contact. There’s a palpable frustration that comes with watching them. If they’re not being obnoxious and cute, they’re being painfully oblivious, and every second spent watching them completely miss the mark is another test of Akechi’s limited patience. He shakes his head before turning to Ryuji.

“Skull, didn’t you mention wanting to take something for your mother?”

Ryuji wipes his mouth. “Yeah. What of it?”

“You should probably go ahead and order so it’ll be done when we’re ready to go.”

“Oh yeah. Help me pick something good.” It’s hard to say whether Ryuji picks up that it’s a ploy to leave the other two to talk or not, but Akechi appreciates that he wastes no time heading back to the counter either way.

The two continue to sit in silence. Yusuke is still eating his sundae. Akira watches out of the corner of his eye, glad he’s finally eating more and more regularly than he used to. The way he sits hunched over, savoring this previously well-decorated bowl of ice cream makes him look like a small child. Akira almost smile at that.

After a moment of contemplation, Yusuke puts the spoon down and meekly turns toward Akira—who is no longer even pretending to not be watching him. 

“Akira,” he starts in a quiet voice, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry. Truly, it was never my intention to hurt you.” He looks down and away, obviously having more to say but not wanting to say it.

“Yusuke,” Akira shakes his head, chastising himself for letting his personal issues affect his friends again. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Really. Please, don’t apologize.”

Yusuke turns a bit more, still not sitting tall, but looking at him at least. Akira spies some stray whipped cream on Yusuke’s face. He does smile at that.

“Um, you have something...” he gestures to the spot on his own face. “No the other side.” Yusuke gets part of it with a napkin, but now as he’s fully facing Akira, Akira can see that there’s even more and wonders when and how he missed his mouth that hard. “Here...” Akira gives a small laugh as he takes a new napkin in his hand.

Yusuke sits still as Akira gently cups his face and lightly runs the napkin over it. Akira absentmindedly tucks a stray lock of hair behind Yusuke’s ear. Their eyes lock for an eternity. Akira’s heart stops momentarily when he realizes what he’s doing. Already feeling the heat rising in his face, Akira quickly unhands him.

“Thank you,” Yusuke almost looks like he’s batting his lashes at him, and if it’s at all possible, Akira’s face probably goes even redder.

As Akechi stands a ways away, half-listening to Ryuji practicing the pronunciation of the French dessert he decided on, he spies this little interaction at their table. He rolls his eyes at the sight of a clearly flustered Akira before turning away, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have an update, finally. Really hoping it won’t be so long before the next one. Thanks for sticking with me on this one.


	22. Naught Else to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I’m surprised too. A bit longer than usual

Akira wakes to the rare knock on his door, the cold big spoon that is Yusuke stirring at his back just enough to further bury his face in the pillow. Through the actual mop that is his hair, Akira sees the door open, hesitantly revealing an already judging Akechi. At the realization that the two aren’t contorted in any compromising positions, Akechi’s face relaxes as he quietly calls out to Akira, making some comment about why he’s still asleep.

Akira—50% not feeling this whole morning thing, 100% not here for this bullshit in his own room—gives a long, languid blink before addressing him. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Akechi, now equally offended, places a hand on his hip. “It’s cardio day.” Which means he’s just getting back from an early morning workout with Ryuji and Ann which means it’s around 9 in the morning. The fact that Akira’s brain is making all these connections so quickly has him concerned about the odds of him getting back to sleep.

“What is it?” He asks, shutting his eyes once more.

“I assumed you’d like to know we’re having company this afternoon,” Akechi sounds less than enthused.

The creep who’d harassed Ann was arrested almost immediately after she spoke to Sae-San, her own report apparently serving as the final nail in the coffin. As a kind of celebration—in lieu of the now postponed trip to Destinyland—everyone is hanging out at the apartment for the day, drifting back and forth between cards in the living room and video games in Akira’s room.

Yusuke’s turn ends, and those chips in the kitchen are calling his name. He ventures to the front where Ann, Makoto, Futaba, and Haru are all sat talking. They all turn to him with twee little grins as he passes through.

Yusuke looks vaguely disconcerted. “Is there something I may help with?”

“Oh no. Just that we’ve all been talking about special people in our lives, and even Futaba has someone like that,” Ann rests her chin in her hand, interested in his response.

“That seems to be the case, yes,” Yusuke eyes Ann warily.

“Soooo?” Futaba nudges him repeatedly in the side.

“So what?”

“Tell us about your special someone, dumb-dumb!” She latches onto his arm.

“These special someones.... They are romantic interests if not partners, yes?” The ladies nod. “I...do not have such a person,” he looks to the plant across the room.

The others exchange glances. “Well then.... Tell us about Akira,” Makoto suggests. “You’ve gotten to spend a lot of time with him lately, right?”

“Oh yes!” Yusuke perks up, and Haru has to suppress a giggle at his sudden and complete abandonment of that stoicism he’s partially known for.

“I’ve truly been enjoying our time. As you all know, he has officially quit smoking, and just the other day he successfully staved off a major craving. We went for dessert in celebration, though the location was Akechi’s request.

“And just yesterday, we went to Inokashira for the first time in ages.”

“Did you take the boats?” Makoto smiles.

“Oh yes. It was a perfect afternoon.” Yusuke’s voice lowers as if he’s divulging something deeply personal. “He has also formally agreed to pose for my next piece. This has been a dream for years, but before, I didn’t feel competent to capture him correctly. That may very well still be the case, but I am ready to try.” His eyes go all dreamy, and the others can’t help but smile.

”You really love him, huh?” Futaba asks without really asking.

“Why, yes. Don’t you all?”

“Well yes. He is a good friend,” Makoto answers.

“Yes. His friendship is most valuable,” he doesn’t meet her gaze. She and Ann share a look, silently agreeing to finally make him acknowledge what they’ve all assumed for years now.

“Is friendship all you feel for him?”

“Naturally. What else might there be?”

“Something more...” Futaba makes kissy noises.

“And how would you differentiate the two?” Yusuke throws a sidelong glance at her.

“Do friends spend all their time together?”

“Am I truly the most appropriate person to ask about such a thing?” Futaba hums her concession.

“Do you ever take the boats on your own?” Haru asks.

“I cannot draw and keep still simultaneously.”   
  
  


“Well, would you ever hold _just_ a friend through the night?” Makoto presses.

“If they were in need of comfort, perhaps.”

“Ever kiss?” Ann suggests scandalously.

”Does the forehead count?”

“Is it a French thing to give forehead kisses?” Futaba teases.

“W-well...”

“Do you dream of ‘capturing’ all of us?”

“That’s...”

“When something—good or bad—happens, is your first thought ever anyone but Akira?” Makoto quirks an eyebrow.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Then... how exactly are those the same feelings?” Haru smiles at him as if to say checkmate.

"Well... I simply care for him in his time of need. I don’t think I’d call the bond familial, but I suppose I would have to place him in some category separate from mere friendship, even of the close variety....” He tilts his head, deep in thought. “I don’t suppose I am making any sense here."

"Nope," Ann smiles warmly, knowingly.

Ryuji walks in with a popsicle stick hanging out of his mouth. "Dude, it's your turn. What're you doing?" Yusuke goes to the bowl of chips he was supposed to be coming to get when he got dragged into all this.

"I'll play for him," Futaba runs to the back.

"So if not love, what might you call these feelings?" Makoto asks, a slightly teasing tone to her voice.

Yusuke shakes his head. “He is simply my dearest friend. Naturally, I would wish to look after him and immortalize him in my work." Yusuke stares at the chips in front of him, hoping to convince even himself at this point.

"You're talkin' about Akira, right? Why don’t you go ahead and ‘fess up," Ryuji continues to wiggle the stick between his teeth.

“‘Fess up? To what?”

"You're in love!" Comes Haru's sweet voice with joy.

"That's... that's preposterous!" Yusuke absently paces around, seeming to be looking for something. "When one is in love, he knows it. All he can think about is that person... how their day is going, whether they'd appreciate this scarf or not... what their hopes for the future hold, and...." he goes still, his back to the room of his friends. "I'm...." He stares off at nothing, knowing well that he can’t talk himself out of this one. "What should I do?"

"Tell him!"

"Confess!"

"Man up!" Haru, Ann, and Ryuji advise, one after the other.

"Out of the question!" Yusuke sounds incredulous but finally turns to face them.

"So you just wanna pretend there's nothing there? _Again_?” Ann is almost equally as incredulous.

"What alternative do I have? Say I do 'man up' and tell him; what will happen if he doesn't feel the same, if instead, he is revolted," his voice breaks on the last word. He stops for a moment, covering his face with his hands and taking a moment to breathe before continuing, "Yes. Better to conceal these feelings and keep a dear friend than force them upon him and lose him altogether."

"Aww, Yusuke, you know he's not that kind of person," Makoto sounds sympathetic.

Haru extends her hand in his direction in a beckoning kind of motion. Yusuke comes to sit next to her, and she grasps his hands, smiling gently at him.

"She's right. I understand your concern, but I do believe you are the only one holding yourself back from true happiness."

Yusuke lets out a shaky breath. "I suppose there is naught else to do then." Haru rubs his back and nods.

"It'll be fiiine," Ryuji finally throws the popsicle stick away. "Now c'mon, my turn is probably coming back up, and we gotta see what damage Futaba's done." Yusuke gently squeezes Haru's hand before standing and following Ryuji back.

Later in the evening, Ann and Ryuji are the last to leave, and they smile at Yusuke, giving him not at all obvious thumbs up before heading for the stairs.

Akira locks the door with a small yawn. "I'm actually pretty hungry again. Think I'm gonna order from somewhere. Any preference?"

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry at the moment," Yusuke sits at the table with his hands folded in his lap, clearly troubled as his brow furrows.

Akira turns to look at him, setting his phone on the counter in the process. "What's wrong?"

"Hm? Nothing. I... I'm alright." Akira notices Yusuke won't look at him. He leans against the nearby wall and rests his hands in his pockets.

"Yusuke," he says gently but firmly.

Yusuke fidgets with his hands. "Someone posed the question earlier, 'what would you do with unrequited love?'" he partially fabricates as he attempts a casual tone. "I've just been pondering my answer. I'm curious to know yours as well."

"Is it my love that's unrequited or someone else's love for me?" Akira asks in a quiet tone.

"Let's say someone else's. What would you do if someone confessed to you?"

Akira contemplates for a moment. "If I didn't feel the same way, I'd tell them. Tactfully, of course." He taps his toe on the floor.

Yusuke nods. “That’s quite upstanding of you,” he says quietly.

“And you?” Akira says just as quietly, peeking out from behind his bangs. “What would you do?”

“I... I don’t believe I would have much difficulty were I the one who doesn’t feel the same. But...” He looks down. For some reason Akira’s heartbeat gets off track in the short stretch of silence. 

“I should be going,” Yusuke rises suddenly and heads to the door. “I shall contact you regarding the painting soon. Goodnight.”

Akira is left there speechless with no idea what that was about but a vague one about what it might mean going forward. With a sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair and opts to just go to bed for the night.

“What did we decide on dinner?” Akechi catches him in the hallway.

“Pick what you want. On me,” Akira keeps walking.

“Do you not want anything?” Akira answers by closing his door, and Akechi is mildly annoyed at being ignored. But his frown soon turns to a mischievous grin as he recalls Akira’s promise to cover the bill for dinner.


	23. Did You Mean This?

A few days pass without any word from Yusuke. The only thing keeping Akira from breaking down his door is all their friends continually promising that they’d “just talked to him” and “nothing seemed wrong.” Akira is relieved he’s alive at least, but he’s confused and more than a little wounded. Things had been so nice lately; what could have possibly gone wrong this time?

“I just don’t know what to do,” Akira deflates, arms wrapped around his “crying pillow,” as Akechi has taken to calling it. Heavy rain has been falling all day, seemingly empathetic to his situation.

“Bro, just fucking tell him already,” Ryuji advises, mouth half full of sandwich. They’d planned to hang out today, but opted to video chat instead. “You got nothing to worry about.”

Akechi speaks up at Akira’s unsure expression. “Are you that self-loathing or just an idiot? Everyone else knows he likes you, too.”

“Well where has he been all week?”

“Probably painting and thinking you don’t like him,” Ryuji takes another bite.

“Did you two fight?”

“No? I was going to order food, and then he wasn’t hungry, and then he asked about one-sided love, and....” Akira trails off with a sigh. Akechi lifts an eyebrow as if Akira just missed something obvious. “What?”

“Just tell him!”

“Fucking tell him!” Akechi and Ryuji say almost simultaneously.

“I did tell him!” Akira’s grip on the pillow tightens. “Back then.... As third years, we went on a... a date for his birthday. I gave him that fancy sketchbook we all signed,” he slumps, addressing Ryuji specifically. “Thought my note was pretty clear, but... he never said anything about it, and I mean I guess it was pretty lame in hindsight. I should’ve just... We saw each other a lot less after that, and then he was just gone.”

He sighs deeply. “I’m not dumb. I see the way he looks at me, and the little things he does, I just... How do you say that to a friend when the risk is so high? He’s always been passionate and open about his feelings, but I’m never sure if it means the same to him. I....” He covers his face. “There’s just no point in getting my hopes up for nothing.” 

A heavy silence stretches as the two process his words, looks of sympathy on their faces. The silence is broken by Akechi’s phone ringing in his room, and he leaves to answer it.

Just as Ryuji opens his mouth to speak, his door opens. After arguing back and forth with his roommate for a moment, he clicks his tongue. “Hey man, I gotta go. I get what ya mean, but you guys seriously should be together. Just give it another try. I’m rooting for ya!” Ryuji gives a big smile before hanging up.

Akira sits there for a while before finally unmuting the tv, unsure how to feel.

"Akira," Akechi walks to the front with his phone in hand. "Do you think you'll be okay alone tonight?"

"Yeah. Don't worry."

If anyone ever accused Akechi of caring about Akira’s feelings, he’d deny it to the end, but he can’t hide the frown that comes to rest on his face at that toneless apathy Akira had grown beyond until just a few days ago. The woman’s voice on the line draws his attention as he heads back to his room. Akira is still half-watching whatever the name of this show is when Akechi returns, walking toward the front door with a small suitcase.

"And you're sure you'll be alright? I won’t tolerate being guilted by the others for accidental elder abuse in the event you fall.”

"Going to Fumiko-Chan’s, right? Get out of here before it gets any worse out,” Akira waves him out, ignoring the dig.

"Call if I can be of assistance."

"Yeah." He catches the glance Akechi shoots in his direction before leaving for the train station. Time passes at a steady crawl, and Akira is mildly invested in some show about muscle cars when the lights go out.

Any other night spent listening to the downpour in the dark would be nice and soothing. It’s not like he’s missing Akechi—at all. _R_ _eally_ —but it’s the first time in a long time he’s been completely alone, completely without distraction from his own head; and with so many thoughts racing, clawing at his mind, battering his heart beyond repair, he could really use _any_ distraction.

He stands with a sigh as he goes to get the candles and thanks the stars that all the other tenants usually ask Inami-San if they need anything too demanding. That left only Yusuke for him to worry about; but surely he’d come get him if he needed something, and he hasn’t needed him in all this time, after all.

As he lights the candle on the coffee table, it illuminates the stack of mail that’s been piling up for quite some time now. He sorts through the stack—mostly magazine subscriptions and expired coupons—until he gets to the envelope Sojiro gave him almost four months ago.

With little else to occupy himself with, he finally opens it. His brow furrows as he reads and rereads the letter, his heart picking up the pace with each word.

Moving on autopilot, he blows out the candle and proceeds to stub his toe on the table, an unpleasant sensation that he barely registers as he feels his way to the door with just enough clarity to grab his keys and lock it before running a couple doors down and knocking frantically.

Yusuke opens the door and is surprised to see Akira standing there shoeless and wild-eyed, a sheet of paper gripped tightly at his side.

"Did you mean this?" Akira holds the paper up, and Yusuke pales as he recognizes the words. "Was this real?"

"It was," his voice is hesitant, dry in his throat.

"Is it still?" Akira's whisper is barely audible over the torrential rain.

Yusuke swallows as his eyes start to sting with tears. "It is."

Without another word, Akira steps forward, grabbing Yusuke by the shirt and pulling him into a kiss he quickly returns.


	24. Would You Like That?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spicy chapter. If you’re not into that, skip to after the break.

They both just barely notice the flash of lightning nearby, and Yusuke pulls Akira in and shuts the door, the kiss never breaking but growing deeper and greedier, their lips only separating when he pushes Yusuke onto the lone displaced chair closest to the door. Akira stands there trying to catch his breath, heart racing at the way Yusuke watches him expectantly. Yusuke’s leg twitches involuntarily as he watches Akira bite his lower lip.

“Um... j-just to make sure... the letter, he motions to the general area it slipped from his hand. “Does... That means you...? You...?”

“Loved you.” Yusuke sits up straight at the edge of the seat, taking Akira’s hands in his own just as the lights come back on. “Yes. I did... and still do,” he looks Akira in the eye with an expression akin to shyness.

With a deep breath that’s immediately nullified by his nerves, Akira leans in to kiss Yusuke again, more slowly and deliberately this time. They begin to lose themselves to desire, tongues dancing together, fingers gliding over each other’s body.

“Mmph!” comes Akira’s surprised moan against Yusuke’s lips when calloused fingertips graze just above his waistband.

“Is this alright?” Yusuke breaks just long enough to ask before rejoining their lips.

“Mhm,” Akira cups Yusuke’s face in both hands and presses closer to him. Yusuke takes it as his cue to explore beyond the waistband. “Ah...!” Akira gasps and shrinks away from the spark caused by the artist’s long fingers wrapping around him.

Yusuke stops and rests his hands on Akira’s hips, vaguely aware of the scarring, the stark difference between bone and prosthetic from left to right. “Have you ever done this?”

Akira shakes his head no, neither proud nor ashamed to admit he’s yet to go much further than a kiss with anyone. “Never really had much time to,” he says a bit shyly. The thought that Yusuke could be his first—and hopefully last—is both thrilling and terrifying, and he just barely suppresses a shiver.

“Then let us take it slowly,” Yusuke whispers against Akira’s lips. Just as Akira is craning his neck to resume, something catches Yusuke’s eye. “What happened?”

Akira looks down to see his toe, now a deep muted red from dried blood. “Ah...! Sorry I... hit it on the way out, and....”

“Come with me,” Yusuke gently takes Akira’s hand and leads him to his bedroom. He gives him a quick peck on the lips before leaving the room, returning a moment later with a towel and bandage. He pats the space on the bed next to him, and Akira takes a seat. Yusuke lifts the injured foot gently enough to play a prince in a Disney movie and takes great care in cleaning away the dried blood and bandaging the small gash left behind.

Akira gives a small, almost bashful smirk. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Yusuke’s eyes soften when they meet Akira’s. “Would you like for me to return with you? I need only to grab a few things first.”

“You don’t have to,” Akira shakes his head, a sad smile the only outward indication of his guilt for intruding so late.

“Then you’ll stay here with me?” Yusuke sounds a bit surprised and almost elated. “Allow me to tidy up a bit. Please, make yourself comfortable,” Yusuke gestures for the bed before going to make sure the door is locked and the floor is clear of blood.

Akira is lying down, looking a bit uncomfortable as Yusuke returns. Yusuke turns off the overhead light before settling in next to Akira where they lie for a long while, silence broken only by the rain, darkness broken by the dim streetlight seeping through the window.

It takes a full revolution around the sun for Akira to organize his thoughts even a little and another one to work up the nerve to actually voice them.

“So...” he starts, clearing his throat, “all this time...?”

“I...” Yusuke swallows thickly, staring at the ceiling. “I gave the letter to Sakura-San before I left. When I received no response, I was afraid.”

Akira bites his lip, barely registering Yusuke’s words, having a hard time wrapping his mind around the whole thing. “And I thought you just left all of a sudden. But you... you felt the same... You....”

“I thought you’d begun to hate me. Even if you weren’t revolted by my feelings, finding out in a letter...” he looks away. “Please forgive my cowardice.”

Akira takes Yusuke’s hand, knowing his own cowardice is what delayed this for so long—not once but probably countless times. They lie there in Yusuke’s small bed, staring up at nothing in particular, suspended in a surreality between time and space, light and dark, storm and silence, both overly and not at all aware of the other’s presence as they take it all in.

Yusuke fills the silence with a small laugh. “How foolish we’ve been. All this time... and it comes down to a misplaced letter.” He bursts into a fit of laughter that Akira can’t help but join in on. Akira’s head lolls to the side, putting his face close enough to feel the slightest bit of warmth emanating from Yusuke’s neck.

After settling down once more, they lie in the semi-silent semi-dark, much more comfortable next to each other now, tracing slow small patterns on each other’s hands. Akira absentmindedly runs Yusuke’s hand down to his hip.

“So I may continue this time?”

Akira freezes, wracking his brain for what he could be talking about before coming up with a brilliant “what?”

“Are you requesting a massage or perhaps further assistance this time?”

So he did notice. “Ah...” Akira blushes as they both laugh a bit. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Would you truly have wanted me to?”

“Yes and no,” Akira gnaws his lip as they fall back into a hesitant yet comfortable silence. “So,” he starts after a time. “Does this change anything with us?”

“Like what?” Yusuke turns to him.

“Are we together... as in um...” Akira fidgets, slightly squeezing Yusuke’s hand. “Like dating?”

“Would you like that?”

“Would _you_ like that?”

Yusuke rests his forehead on Akira’s. “I would love that.”

Akira gives a surprised laugh. “Okay. Good. Me too.” He slowly leans in and presses his lips to Yusuke’s, and it’s clear both are eager to continue.

After some light petting, Yusuke pushes himself up and straddles Akira’s waist, taking great care not to settle his full weight all at once. “Is this alright?” He asks again, voice deeper, eyes half lidded and clouded lustily. Akira, just as caught up in the mood, only nods as he rests his hands on Yusuke’s thighs and tilts his head upward ever so slightly in anticipation for Yusuke’s lips.

Who was the lucky bastard who got to do this first? Which absolute wretch forever has claim on his first time? Probably someone who didn’t squander countless opportunities to tell him how they feel. The unwarranted jealousy only serves to deepen the kiss, drives him to give in to his desire, if only a bit more.

Yusuke suddenly pulls away, panting as their eyes lock, his bangs already slipping free of their tie. Akira’s eyes follow the line of Yusuke’s jaw down to his neck and chest and finally resting at the concealed curve just below his navel, an involuntary twitch pushing him upward, earning him a small sigh from the man on top of him.

“Are you certain you wish to proceed?”

“Yes,” Akira says firmly as he pulls Yusuke back to him where they lie entwined for an endless moment until, with a visible reluctance, Yusuke pulls away again and moves away to the bathroom.

Akira grows a bit more nervous with each passing second but patiently waits at half mast until Yusuke returns a few minutes later with a bottle and wrapper in hand.

“Have _you_ done this before?” Akira eyes him nervously as he approaches.

“Well,” Yusuke bites his lower lip. “N-not like this.” _Not with a man_ , Akira assumes his meaning. “Shall I handle preparations or would you prefer to?”

The nerves start burning away Akira’s stomach lining. He takes deep breaths as his eyes wander. Yusuke is sat at the edge of the bed in a robe that just barely conceals the skin underneath. He’s let his hair loose to cascade over his shoulders, framing his face and drawing the eye to his cleavage, and it strikes Akira again just how beautiful Yusuke is. He glances at Yusuke’s eyes and finds a vulnerability there.

“Um... could you teach me?” Akira’s face is suddenly on fire. Yusuke nods and unties his robe, the sheer sleeves slipping from his shoulders with little effort.

He’s different fully erect. Akira takes a few deep breaths and hopes he’ll prepare him well. Yusuke takes Akira’s hands and pulls him up until they’re sitting face to face. Akira can feel Yusuke’s hands slightly trembling as they cup his face while he kisses him gently, taking one last opportunity to ensure they both want this.

“I’m nervous,” Akira admits. “But I’m sure. I trust you,” he reassures him. Yusuke kisses Akira’s knuckles before leaning backward, propping himself up on his elbows. He pulls his knees up and opens his legs wide. Akira is a bit light-headed and has to remind himself to breathe, the power of such a well-crafted nude striking him to the core. Yusuke twitches under his gaze, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

Yusuke wordlessly passes him the bottle he brought back. Akira briefly catches the word lube on the sides before uncapping it.

“Please start with a single digit,” Yusuke instructs him, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly. It is at this moment it finally clicks.

“Oh! Y-you want me i-in in you?!” Akira splutters. Yusuke nods, the look in his eyes a mixture of something shy and something else far more demanding. Akira can feel himself getting lost in the blizzard of those eyes and forces his attention back to his hands, a renewed sense of gratitude for the fact his dominant hand wasn’t the one ripped off. This will be clumsy enough as it is.

As if on cue, he fumbles the bottle in his haste, the cold liquid running all over his hand as he caps it just before it can drip anywhere else. He moves closer between Yusuke’s legs and runs his index and middle fingers around the hole. He looks up at Yusuke’s face as a visible shiver runs through the man. Yusuke is biting his lip and watching Akira’s hands intently as he presses closer to the fingers unintentionally teasing him.

Akira returns to the task at hand, prodding the entrance with a bit more force before pushing the first finger in and gasping almost as loudly as Yusuke does. He freezes for a moment, not because he thought to give Yusuke a chance to adjust but from the pure shock of his finger disappearing into such a secret place.

”You can add another,” Yusuke says in between deep breaths. Akira does. “Mmn...!” he flinches at the second. This time when Akira stops, it is solely out of concern for his now lover. Yusuke drops his head backward, mouth open in a silent groan, hips slowly beginning to roll, ass devouring the remaining length of Akira’s fingers. He grips Akira’s arm tightly and picks up the pace, panting as he rides a mesmerized Akira’s hand.

With a sharp gasp, Yusuke suddenly pushes him onto his back, yanks his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and straddles his waist once again all in one fluid motion. He gives Akira’s length two slow tugs and mounts him without further ado. 

Akira nearly folds in on himself, a long, loud moan spilling from his mouth. He lacks the wherewithal to be embarrassed, the sudden sensation already putting him on edge. Yusuke slowly works himself down until they’re flush against each other. A soft whine slips past his slightly open lips as he stares into Akira’s soul.

“I-I want to move,” Yusuke states before finding just the right spot to settle into rolling his hips against him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Akira can only imagine how stupid his must face look right now with his mouth agape in total awe of the body gliding back and forth atop him. Yusuke flips his hair back over his shoulder as he picks up the pace, his breaths replaced by deep sighs.

Akira is already a moaning, precoming mess, Yusuke being miles beyond what he ever could’ve imagined with his warmth so tightly enveloping him as he rides at a steady pace, palms pressed against Akira’s rib cage as the nails dig into his chest, indiscriminately grasping for anything to stay grounded and upright. Yusuke’s face is red, but his nearly closed eyes and loud open-mouthed moans suggest anything but embarrassment.

Akira’s hands tremble where they rest on Yusuke’s hips, his body no longer controlled by his mind, through which only a handful of words and phrases currently run, the awe and pleasure not allowing anything else passage. He can feel his hips start to move on their own. Yusuke lurches forward, his hand slipping from Akira’s chest and clawing at the sheets underneath them, taking a tight handful of Akira’s hair in the process. The tug on his scalp combined with Yusuke’s physical and highly vocal reactions spur him to thrust faster.

“Ah! Akira gently, please!”

Akira tries his hardest to slow down and get a grip. But with every thrust, every whine from Yusuke, every second spent inside the man he loves, he slips further and further away from sanity. His thoughts are incoherent, words between pants and moans even more so. “Ah-ahhh! I-I... can’t! Yus-oh! Ah! I’m... sorry... sorry... I can’t...!”

Akira pulls Yusuke down to him and hooks his arms under Yusuke’s, holding him firmly against his chest as he buries his face in the man’s neck, so much deeper and still not close enough.

“A-! Akira... Ak.... won’t last...! I... oh I cannot! I... oh ahhh...!” Yusuke cries out shamelessly, the sound too much for Akira to handle. He bites down on Yusuke’s shoulder as his entire body tenses up, his own lewd ramblings muffled by the salty skin between his lips.

•

Some immeasurable amount of time later, they’re resting in their same position, Akira running his fingers up and down Yusuke’s back and through his hair, Yusuke nuzzling Akira’s neck, his warm breath ghosting over the other’s skin. They’re both still coming down from the high—with some difficulty due to each other’s ministrations.   
  


Yusuke runs his fingers down Akira’s arm and looks up when they graze something strange.

”Oh!” He holds up the unopened condom. Akira is just about to apologize when Yusuke breaks into laughter, burying his face in Akira’s neck.

Akira goes back to playing with Yusuke’s hair, relishing the little sounds that escape him. After catching his breath and regaining his senses, he finally asks hesitantly, “Was I okay?”

Yusuke laughs again, the entirety of his limp body wracked with the effort. He pushes himself up and plants one open-mouthed kiss after another in a trail from Akira’s neck up his jaw to his lips in answer.

The next morning is clear and bright. Birds are chirping, there’s a butterfly floating past the partially raised blinds. It looks to be a perfect day, a startling contrast to the night before.   
  
  


Akira has been lying here for a while, blinking languidly and staring. Yusuke is even perfect when he sleeps. Of course, he’s always pretty, that’s just how it is. But there’s now a special spot in Akira’s heart for this Yusuke after such a... _good_ night, when he’s achieved his deepest sleep. When he resembles the walking dead all done up for tv, mouth agape from the way his face awkwardly rests on the pillow, long limbs encroaching on any given spot of the mattress, grabby hands clawing balefully at the covers when they fail to catch their target. Akira allows himself to watch for a while, emboldened by the fact that Yusuke wouldn’t find it weird if he were to catch him doing so.

He pushes the blue black curtain of the other man’s hair back away from his face and finds one of his eyes partially open, still rolling around aimlessly behind the lid. Akira laughs to himself, a bit giddy at getting to see this side of the artist that no one else gets to see. Yusuke stirs after a while, batting his long lashes and wiping his face clear of the drool that took its sweet time pooling on his pillow.

“Good morning,” he conceals a yawn behind his hand, his dark eyelashes curling where they lay pressed on his cheeks. He’s just-

“So damn pretty,” Akira continues to watch him. Yusuke meets Akira’s gaze and can’t help but smile softly at him. Akira leans in for a kiss, but Yusuke hurries to cover his own mouth.

“I have yet to brush my teeth.”

“You’ve slept through the whole night with your mouth open. I think I’m acclimated,” Akira gives a sly smirk.

Yusuke laughs. “Very well. I just ask that you hold your tongue...for the time being,” he smirks at his lover as their lips meet.

“One more?” Akira makes a sweet face that Yusuke doesn’t even try to resist as he leans in once more. “Two more?” Yusuke laughs into his hand and grants him two more kisses. “Three-“

“Akira, I will spend the rest of the day here with you, but I must brush my teeth.” Both of their stomachs seem to object to the proposal simultaneously. “And eat somewhere within all of that.”

“Fiiine,” Akira groans into the pillow, throwing a fake tantrum, any possible pain or discomfort the furthest thing from his mind. 


	25. Want to Try Something?

After finally untangling themselves—and giving Yusuke a chance to brush his teeth—they make their way to the kitchen.

“I’ve been meaning to get to the store, but the storm came sooner than I’d realized,” Yusuke closes the fridge, a bit dismayed.

“My place it is. Need to shower anyway.” They eye each other a bit nervously, biting back smiles like high schoolers flirting in the hall before Yusuke leans in and leaves a small kiss on Akira’s cheek and hurries to go grab some stuff to take next door with them.

Akira watches him go for a moment and has to tear his eyes away to check his buzzing phone. A text from Ryuji asking if he’s ok. He responds with a simple “yeah. You?” and watches the little ellipses bounce as Ryuji asks if anything happened. Akira types out a whole paragraph about the previous night and why rainy days are now his favorite but settles on a thumbs up emoji followed by a cryptic “got news” made slightly less cryptic by the winking face after it.

Ryuji sends a series of interrobangs just as Yusuke makes his way back down the hall. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

•

Yusuke looks through the kitchen as Akira hurries to take his shower. He pulls on a shirt on his way down the hall.

“Akira,” Yusuke turns excitedly with a cup of something in hand. “We have many options! Come, I will cook for you.” Akira smiles the whole time Yusuke explains the intricacies of the dish, offering spoonfuls of this and pinches of that to gauge his reaction. The meal decided, they stand enjoying each other’s company as the oven heats up.

Akira leans forward on the counter as a pleasant lull in conversation settles in. Yusuke wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on his shoulder.

Akechi walks in yawning and stops short, clearly surprised to see Yusuke looking back at him.

“You seem to have weathered the storm nicely,” Yusuke comments, his arms still wrapped tightly around Akira.

“As do you,” Akechi quirks an eyebrow at the two. “I assume I missed something?”

Yusuke gives an affirmative hum and nuzzles further into Akira’s shoulder. “The power went out for a short time.”

A devious smirk creeps onto Akechi’s face as he puts the pieces together. “That sounds troublesome.”

“I cannot complain. It did allow for much needed intercourse.” Akechi barely manages to suppress a laugh at the five shades of red Akira turns.

“Good that you were able to reach a satisfactory conclusion to your _discussion_ ,” he’s having way too much fun. “Well, I’m going to settle in. Should you feel the need to have more... conversation, please use your indoor voices.” Akechi gives his tv smile and a small laugh as Akira offers a rude gesture.

A few days go by and bring lots of buzz about the new couple. Not too long after Akechi had returned, Ryuji called to ask about the news Akira said he had, a call that involved the usual amount of shouting and teasing and quickly prompted an equally as loud call from Ann, demanding an answer for why she wasn’t told sooner.

It doesn’t take long for the two to become more comfortable with physical contact, a fact Akechi thoroughly enjoys teasing them about.

Having just finished the dishes, they stand in the kitchen, very much enjoying breathing the same air as they gently rub their noses together. Akira makes a suggestive joke and reaches for Yusuke’s hip. Yusuke is leaning in to whisper his response right as Akechi’s door opens.

“I’m heading out,” he pauses to button his coat as he spies the two of them. “Ah, and not a moment too soon it seems.”

“That is a nice shade on you,” Yusuke notes after a brief glance, his hands still exploring Akira’s waist.

“Thank you! Well then, I’m off.”

They wave an absentminded goodnight and return to the matter at hand. The nuzzling soon grows into kissing, the intensity increasing with each brush of a fingertip. They separate only when their bodies meet in a most stimulating spot.

“You wanna try something?” Akira breathes out, eying Yusuke’s lips hungrily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obnoxious because they finally can be.


	26. Get Over Yourself, Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunkechi

Akira smiles softly as Yusuke sets him in the chair and kisses his forehead before turning to the kitchen. They have a few moments of quiet conversation and love drunk smiles before Akechi makes his way down the hall.

“If you’d keep your whore sounds to yourselves especially so early in the morning-“

“Whoah what?!” Akira whips his head around, his own look of outrage meeting Akechi’s one of disgust. “The hell is that about?”

“Crying for help so early in the goddamned day.”

“You ass! My leg is broken!”

“Oh of course,” Akechi rolls his eyes.

“What’s your problem today?”

“Oh you mean other than my rest being disturbed by the landlord taking it up the ass.” Yusuke makes a face over his shoulder before turning back to the countertop. Granted, they did make a bit a noise late into the prior evening, but he wasn’t home to hear that, let alone complain about it.

“Believe what you want, my leg is still broken.”

“And how’d you break it?”

“Stretching?”

“You disgust me.”

“So you don’t stretch when you wake up? That’s what you’re trying to tell me?”

“You mean splaying my limbs across the bed for my boyfriend to inser-“

“He was in the shower, you presumptuous asshole. Fuck you!” He throws a napkin. “Give me my chopsticks.”

“These are mine.”

“Since when do you use those, Mr. stainless steel?!”

“Since today you hobgoblin! There are a few like this. You want em, go get em.”

“Fine.” Akira starts moving to stand. Yusuke turns to stop him.

“Please stay seated! I will bring everything to you. I am only looking for its mate.”

Akechi’s shoulders slump. “That makes two of us.” Akira settles back down in his seat, his expression softening.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why should I?” His bark lacks the usual malice. 

“Don’t, then.” Akira types out a text to Futaba and another to Ryuji.

They eat breakfast in relative silence, Akechi sighing loudly and often but denying that there’s anything to discuss when asked. Futaba responds with simple enough instructions, though Akira is not looking forward to it. Yusuke meets his eyes, his expression asking if the other is ready. Akira braces himself in his seat as Yusuke takes the problem leg in hand.

There’s rhythmic drumming on the front door drowning out Akira’s pitiful yelps. Akechi continues to push his food around the plate. The leg now reset, Yusuke goes to answer the door, cutting Ryuji’s song short.

“‘Sup?” The sunny man greets the room. Akechi gathers up his meal and skulks to his room, locking the door behind him. “What’s his deal?”

“Based on his behavior, I would assume his latest romantic endeavor has come to an end.”

“We’re on a break!” They hear through the door before music begins blaring.

“Is this...?” Yusuke’s eyebrows knit.

“What’s for breakfast?” Ryuji takes his shoes off and goes to inspect the kitchen. Conversation proceeds as normal, barely drowning out Akechi’s music muffled through the door.

They ignore it for quite a while, most of the day passing with Akechi’s breakup playlist as background music. Early evening rolls around, and by the eleventh play of the same song, all they can focus on is the music. When Yusuke begins to hum along, Ryuji makes his way down the hall and bangs on the door. “Open up, Akechi.” The song continues. “Akechi, hey! Akechi! Hey, Akechi! Akechi!” Ryuji drums on his door until he turns the music down.

“Go away!”

“Ah c’mon let me in! I’m not leaving until you do.” Akechi turns the music back on, even louder this time. Undaunted, Ryuji goes for his wallet, pulling his ID out. He slides the card in the door and enters without fanfare.

“What the-?! -the hell out of here! What’re you doing?!” Ryuji comes out into the hall with a fuming Akechi in a headlock. “Fuck you, Ryuji!”

“Let’s go.”

•

They’ve been here for a couple hours now. A buzzed Akechi takes the mic as a familiar sax melody starts up. “No fucking way...” Ryuji says almost in answer to Akira’s “is he really...?”

They listen with a mixture of concern and amusement, half impressed at the vocal control from the clearly intoxicated man. They’ve all heard this one song today more times than they’d care to in a month, but no one denies the quality of his sincere rendition of “Careless Whisper.”

He takes his bow to a respectable amount of applause and orders another drink on his way back to the table.

“Have you gotten that out of your system?” Yusuke lifts an eyebrow. Akechi responds with something between a grunt and a hum.

“You uh wanna slow down there bud?” Ryuji watches him gulp down the entire thing in one go.

“Oh-oh yeah... _sure_. ‘Drink, Guh-kechi! Slow down you’re drinking too _much_ , ‘Kechi!’ Pick a side Skuh- _Ryuji_! Waiter!” He holds up two fingers at the passing man.

After a particularly enthusiastic sing along to another equally as drunk patron’s musical stylings of Cee Lo Green’s “F**k You,” the guys gather a wasted Akechi up and pull him to the car. The drive home is silent aside from Akechi’s frequent outbursts and singing.

“Here in my car, I feel safest of all. I can lock all-Joker unlock the door.” After listening to Akechi click the unresponsive button at least 100 times, Akira unlocks the window. “It’s the only way to live! In cars! Bwanah byananana!”

He lets the window down and is quiet for a moment, the cool night air tousling his disheveled hair. They ease to a stop at a red light, and he leans his head out the window, quietly watching the people walking by before suddenly pushing himself up. His whole upper half is out the window as he sings along with a passing group of people. Yusuke grabs a handful of the back of Akechi’s jacket and pulls him back inside just as the light turns green.

“He is far better sober,” Yusuke laments, rubbing his temple as they file into the apartment, Akira still with a slight limp, Akechi vocalizing and otherwise docile draped over Ryuji’s shoulder.

Yusuke locks up as Ryuji carries the inebriated performer to his room. Akechi lets out a “whoah!” and a small giggle at the feeling of being dropped onto his bed, Ryuji inwardly surprised at such out of character behavior from him.

“Wow,” his tone loosely condescending, “so strong, Sakamoto.”

“Could’ve dragged you by your ankles,” Ryuji mutters to himself as he pulls Akechi’s shoes off. He pulls a light blanket over him and heads for the door.

“Ah-“ Akechi reaches out a hand but stops himself when Ryuji turns around. He attempts an angry face but ends up looking more like a pouty kid with his flushed face and puffy lip. “Fine. Be like the rest.”

“The hell that’s s’posed to mean?”

“You’re leaving aren’t you?”

Ryuji sighs and reaches out for Akechi’s forehead but is met with a smack to the hand.

“Don’t touch me,” his resolve is weak.

“Get over yourself, idiot,” Ryuji’s voice is soft. “Lie down. I’ll check on you when I get back from the store.” He gently pushes him back onto the pillow before turning back to the door. “Akira, I’m taking your keys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The RyuGoro has been growing on me for a time now.


	27. A Worthwhile Experience

Noon is a couple of hours away when Akechi finally joins them in the kitchen, Ryuji there to greet him with a cup of his “miracle cure” for hangovers. He’d agreed to go with Akira to help check on the other tenants which left Yusuke in relative silence with Akechi—a silence broken only by irritated sighs.

“Something wrong?” Yusuke asks without looking up from the sketchbook.

“I’ve ruined my complexion. And I have work tomorrow,” he gives a stuffy groan. Yusuke spares him a glance and a small hum as he continues to flip through sketches.

“If only we knew someone who could help with that....” Akechi picks up on the attitude in his voice and eyes him groggily for a moment before he remembers.

•

Ann arrives with a large rolling case in tow. Yusuke invites her in and is caught off guard by her grabbing his face before either can even speak.

“Hmm. You look okay. Could definitely use more iron though,” her expert opinion after the brief inspection.

“Your client is over there,” he motions with his eyes, mildly indignant and doubting she could even tell that from just a look as he undoes the messy bun atop his head before looking up iron-rich foods.

“You drank your feelings yesterday, huh?”

“What gave it away?” Akechi takes another sip, only half sarcastic.

“Well, it’s either that or old age beat the hell out of you,” she gives a cruel smile as Akechi sniffs, unamused. “Plus, I know the smell of Sakamoto sake anywhere.” His face scrunches up as she starts pinning his bangs back.

Akira and Ryuji return to bottles of product strewn about a small circle on the floor, Ann trying out a hairstyle on Yusuke as Akechi lies on the couch.

“Is he dead?” Ryuji leans over him, sniffing at the brightly colored face mask and cucumbers.

Akechi nudges him away but holds his face still to not crack the mask. “Can I help you?”

“Thought you were a snack,” Ryuji tiptoes through the minefield of bottles on his way to the kitchen.

Ann slides another hairpin into the elaborate high ponytail she’s working on when her phone buzzes, startling Yusuke and putting an end to the conversation he and Akira were having as he hands it to her.

“Hello?” The volume is up loud enough for everyone to hear the man on the line but not quite make out the words. “No! What?! Really?! Yes!” A pause as the man rambles. “Send it to me? Yes definitely! You’re the best!” She hangs up with a sound just short of a scream as the guys come closer.

“What’s up?” Ryuji asks, halfway through a roll.

“Guess who’s going to New York Fashion Week? It’s me!” She squeals again and hugs the closest person to her.

“That is marvelous!” Yusuke returns her hug as the others congratulate her as well.

“Congratulations, Ann. You deserve it,” Akira offers a kind smile.

Ryuji chimes in between bites. “When do you go? We got time to save up to come see you?”

“I believe it’s by invite only. Save all you want, but they wouldn’t let us in,” Akechi begins rubbing the mask off his face.

“I probably can’t get everyone in, but I _could_ ask to bring a plus one... or eight. All expenses paid,” she smiles a bit smugly.

“For real?!”

“That could be fun.”

“A worthwhile experience indeed.”

“Would we have separate suites?” Akechi casts a wary glance in Akira and Yusuke’s direction.

Ann only squeals. “I have to tell Shiho!”

In the momentary silence of Ann waiting for Shiho to answer, Yusuke reaching for Akira’s hand catches Akechi’s attention. He rolls his eyes until he spies the tension in the other’s clenched fist. His eyes flick to Yusuke’s face then Akira’s. Ryuji rests a hand on the man’s shoulder and seems to offer words of encouragement as Akira nods and manages a flicker of a smirk. 

There’s something they must do first.


	28. You Are Here

“I must say, it’s not a bad feeling to finally be able to help him out for a change,” Akechi notes as he and Yusuke help Ryuji adjust his vest and shirt collar. “But why the suits?” he asks as they step away, checking their work.

“Don’t you feel better when you look good?” Ryuji straightens his tie. “It’s just what he chose.”

They make comfortable small talk for a while until Akira makes his way down the hall, the anxiety abundantly clear in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” Yusuke’s smile is gentle, loving. Akira blushes, his own shy smile as he fidgets with his sleeves.

“Hey,” Ryuji tosses a small black box to him. “From Ann and Makoto.” He opens the box. Seven handpicked pairs of earrings. Ryuji comes to help him swap them out with the old ones.

Akechi comes to him and pins a flower to his lapel. “Haru sends her love.”

Yusuke stands and removes the headphones from around his neck. “Futaba wishes you good luck. Of course, I am paraphrasing. She said quote ‘Give him these so he won’t wuss out’ end quote.” He places them around Akira’s neck and takes him by the left hand. “Are you ready?”

•

They walk to the station, getting a lot more looks than they were expecting. The conversation dies down a little more with each step closer to the platform until the tracks are visible across the space. They stand protectively around him, silent but still trying their hardest to re-establish some sense of normalcy in this space he’s spent years avoiding and escaping.

They can hear it in the tunnel, and his breathing picks up, bordering on hyperventilating. Without a word, Yusuke takes his hand—careful not to make any sudden movements—and Ryuji and Akechi each rest a hand on his shoulders. He’s trying his hardest to relax, but the approach is agonizingly slow, it’s taunting him.

It’s closer now, and he begins to tremble, his palms going cold and clammy. Akechi pulls the headphones up over his ears, and everything goes quiet, every sound but his breathing and heartbeat a dull and distant reminder of the rest of the world.

He racks his brain for what Futaba suggested for times like these. Something about focusing and senses. He can smell the sweet aroma from the flower on his lapel, feel his friends’ hands pouring strength into him, taste the last of the peppermint he ate on the way here. He takes a deep breath for each sensation accounted for.

He slowly blinks his eyes back open, and the train is rolling toward them. The sudden appearance is startling, and he turns to run but is immediately caught in Ryuji’s embrace. The headphones find their way back around his neck, and the other men’s gentle voices find his ears. _It’s alright, everything’s fine, we’re okay, breathe_ , he hears. _Breathe_. He starts with that, squeezing whoever’s hand is in his.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry,” he gasps. The voices again assure him that everything is alright.

“Take your time, Joker.” That was Yusuke. Just being able to identify something, _anything_ makes it a bit easier to breathe. There’s humming all around him, but he can’t make out the song. He keeps breathing. A hand gently tousles his hair. He keeps breathing. Eventually, his lungs can more easily get their fill, and he dares to open his eyes.

He’s greeted by proud smiles and can’t figure out why until Akechi motions behind them with a small flourish. He can see the city gliding by through the large windows, the sun partly concealed by a fluffy mass of clouds. He looks back to the men nearest him and is engulfed in praise and congratulations.

“But I still completely freaked out. Tried to run away,” he curls in on himself.

“But ya didn’t,” Ryuji reminds him.

“It was merely a stumble on a journey that took tremendous courage to make. You are here. The biggest obstacle has been overcome,” Yusuke smiles.

Akira shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his shame slowly giving way to a bit of pride. “I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Akechi looks him in the eye, his face serious aside from the almost kind smirk on his lips. “Just settling a debt.”

They chat excitedly about all the places they’ll go and things they’ll do once they get to New York—and once they make it back home—and soon, they’re rolling to a stop. They have a couple of transfers that Akira manages much more easily before they finally arrive in Yongen-Jaya.

As the doors open, they look to him—their leader—their expressions encouraging and proud. He stands and carefully steps off onto the platform, the other three right behind him.

His legs feel a bit shaky but not from fear like before. He looks around, getting his bearings. His heart nearly explodes when he catches sight of everyone.

So much has happened in the past few years. He went from a quiet small town boy to a criminal to the savior of the world to a dead man. He made some friends, lost some burdens, reconnected with what some would call his soulmate. It all came with far more strife than anyone should ever experience, but he found the life he was meant to live with his true family.

And here they all are in the place where it began, all in tailored suits just for him.

As he starts walking toward the group clearly just dying to hug him, he locks eyes with Sojiro, his father, the one who chose him. As he approaches the man standing at the front of the group with the proudest smile and his arms opened wide, he can read the words on his lips before the sound carries to him.

“Well done, son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support on this one. I hope it’s been as fun to read as it’s been to write. Given that this is my post-canon AU, there’s a good chance that there will be more one shots in the same setting; if nothing else, I plan to finally tell what Yusuke wouldn’t about his college years. Thank you for reading!
> 
> The title is based on a fairly famous line from _To a Mouse _by Robert Burns. Below is an excerpt from the modern English translation by Michael R. Burch.__
> 
> But mouse-friend, you are not alone  
> In proving foresight may be vain:  
> The best-laid schemes of Mice and Men  
> Go oft awry,  
> And leave us only grief and pain,  
> For promised joy!  
> Still, friend, you're blessed compared with me!  
> Only present dangers make you flee  
> But, ouch!, behind me I can see  
> Grim prospects drear!  
> While forward-looking seers, we  
> Humans guess and fear!  
> 


End file.
